


This Isn't Everything You Are

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fairy tale land Hook saves Emma from Cora, and in Storybrooke Emma saves Hook from Rumple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> What started out as simple prompt fill has taken on a life of it's own in my head. Sure to be Jossed shortly. Enjoy!

_Have I told you a lie?_

Emma could still see his face. When she closed her eyes, she could see the anguished look on the insufferable pirate's face. She didn't understand why that look bothered her so much. Hook was a _pirate,_ for pete's sake. In fact, he was _the_ pirate. Pirates couldn't be trusted; she'd learned as much reading about Peter Pan as a child. And yet, when faced the with the real Captain Hook, she'd spilled her most closely guarded secret. Why had she done that? He was charming sure, but she'd been around plenty of charmers in her life. In fact, her father was Prince Charming! It was like she'd been predestined to run across more than her fair share of charming men. But never before had she _confided_ in one. Not since Tallahassee, anyway.

And yet, when Hook told her about his lost love, she'd replied that she'd been in love once as well. She hadn't even thought twice about it. It just came out. And Emma was damned if she knew why.

In frustration, Emma kicked a stone in the path. She'd volunteered to bring up the rear when she, Mary Margaret, Mulan and Aurora left the beanstalk. Her mother had raised her eyebrow at that, but didn't push. It was almost as if Emma was expecting the pirate to catch up to them. But that was ridiculous of course. She'd betrayed him. Left him up there alone with a giant, chained to a wall for ten hours.

_Have I told you a lie?_

Emma sighed. Damn it, she shouldn't care this much. What was done, was done. She wouldn't have changed it even if she'd had the chance. She had to get back to Henry. She _had_ to. Emma didn't have time to deal with charming, insanely handsome pirates intent on revenge. Henry had to come first. She just hoped they'd find Cora and get the wardrobe ashes before Hook found them.

 

 

Killian sat uncomfortably on the hard stone of the castle floor. He had no idea how much time had passed since Emma had left him there. After the initial shock had worn off, he'd tried to pick the handcuff with his hook, but it was no good. Whatever magic it had been enchanted with was impenetrable by the means at hand. Killian had even tried bellowing at the giant for a while, but gave that up too. It was clear that there was no way the giant would release him before the allotted ten hours had passed. So Killian sat and waited. And fumed.

He couldn't believe she had gotten the better of him twice. He, Killian Jones, had been beaten at his own game twice by a lass who was not only new to this world, but also managed to resist his charms. The most infuriating thing about it, however? Was that he _enjoyed_ it. He loved matching wits with her. He loved that she gave as good as she got. The speed with which she saw through him was unnerving, but he supposed turnabout was fair play. She was as much of an open book to him, as he was to her. He'd met many beautiful women in his life, but one that could match him was rare. One had been taken from by his Crocodile. The second left him chained to the wall of a giant's lair. One thing was certain, there would be hell to pay when he found Emma Swan.

 

 

“We should rest here,” Mulan said, as the little group entered a clearing. It was nearing dark.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Emma asked.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret cut in, “Aurora hasn't slept more than hour or so for days. You climbed a beanstalk today. You must be tired.”

That was true. Emma was exhausted mentally and physically. But the greater part of her just wanted to find Cora and get home. Then she looked into her mother's pleading face and knew she couldn't argue. They'd never survive a fight with Cora if they were exhausted.

Emma raised her hands in surrender. “Ok, fine,” she replied.

“You and the princess should stay here, while Snow and I gather firewood and water,” Mulan said.

Emma didn't really have the inclination to argue. At least this time, they didn't insult her by saying “guard the campsite.” No, princess sitting was so much better.

Emma sat on a log, settling her borrowed sword across her lap. Aurora sat next to her a couple of feet away. The princess fidgeted and kept her eyes on the ground. Every once in a while Aurora would look at her and open her mouth like she wanted to say something. Then she'd close it and go back to staring at the ground. Emma was in no mood to talk, but she felt bad for the lonely princess. With that Philip guy gone, the younger woman appeared aimless and sad. Emma knew all too well what that felt like.

As gracefully as she could manage, Emma turned to the princess and said, “Is there something you want to ask me?”

Aurora looked at her and smiled sheepishly. “That obvious?”

“Somehow, I don't think subtlety is your strong suit, princess.”

Aurora gave her a half smile. “Aurora, please. I've been asleep so long, my kingdom doesn't really exist anymore.”

Emma tried not to wince at that. “Ok, then. Aurora. What do you want to know?”

“Snow. You said before that she was your mother? Forgive me, but _how_? I've been so curious, but didn't feel it was my place to ask since I tried to...” The “kill her” was left unsaid.

Emma sighed. “It's a long story. Very long actually. But the short version is,” Emma paused trying to collect her thoughts. Explaining what happened was so much more difficult now that it was real. “OK, remember the curse? The one that froze you all in time for 28 years?”

Aurora nodded. “Well, that same curse sent my parents and bunch of other people to another world. They got frozen in time too, you see. My parents sent me through a portal just before the curse hit, so I was spared. Only I didn't know any of this until recently. I found them without knowing I'd found them, and broke the curse.” It sounded so much crazier when she said it out loud.

But Aurora didn't even blink. “And that's how you and your mother are nearly the same age?”

“Yup, my father too. He's back in Storybrooke, hopefully taking care of my son.” For the first time, Emma took comfort in the fact that David was still in Storybrooke. She saw how much her mother missed him, but if anyone could keep Henry safe it was Prince Charming, right?

“Snow is very kind,” Aurora said. “Far kinder than I deserve.”

“Don't beat yourself up, Aurora. We all do stupid things when we're angry. And if I didn't say it earlier, I'm sorry about what happened to Philip.”

“Thank you, Emma.”

Soon after, Mary Margaret and Mulan returned. Emma watched as her mother expertly built a fire, still amazed that this was the same woman she'd lived with for months. Snow White was almost the complete antithesis of Mary Margaret. Hell, just wrapping her head around her mother being Snow freaking White was difficult enough. After being alone for so long, she finally had a family that loved her. Emma could feel it every time the woman she'd known as Mary Margaret looked at her. Her mother loved her fiercely and would do anything to protect her. It was a revelation for Emma, one that she knew reflected how she felt about Henry.

Mary Margaret joined Emma on the log once the fire was going. Her mother had a look that Emma was coming to know well. Snow White had a plan.

 

 

Killian was unsurprised to find Cora at the bottom of the beanstalk. The witch looked at him expectantly. Killian avoided her eyes, instead concentrating on climbing the last few dozen feet.

“Well, Captain? Do you have the compass?”

Straight to the point then. Killian glared at Cora. “I don't have it,” he snapped.

“Don't have it? How can that be?” Cora paused. “You let one of _them_ get it?”

“I didn't _let_ anything happen, Cora. I was a bit...detained, shall we say? We'll find them and get the bloody thing back. How formidable can four women be?”

Needless to say, Killian was not anxious to advertise what Emma had done. Nor did he inform Cora that he had switched allegiances. Because that part had been true. He had been entirely truthful when he said he'd swear allegiance to whomever got him to got him to Storybrooke first. But now it appeared that Cora was his best bet. Surely, it would be far easier to get the compass from Emma, than for Emma to get the ashes from Cora. And he promised himself that Emma no longer mattered. All that mattered was skinning his Crocodile. He looked down at his tattoo, the one that Emma had asked him about. The resolve to end Rumplestiltskin flooded his heart once more. He wouldn't let anything stand in his way, not anymore.

_I can't chance that I'm wrong about you._

Killian closed his eyes, willing the image of Emma's face from his mind. He needed to focus. When he opened them, he said, “I know just how to find them.”

 

 

Emma awoke to something sharp poking her in the back. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry, but one thing was certain. Emma was no longer on the ground. Somehow, she'd been raised up and pushed against a tree. Emma struggled, but there were already ropes lashing her to the tree. As she struggled, she heard a familiar chuckle in her ear. Hook.

“Cora wanted to tie you up with magic, but I wanted to return what I owe you,” he said, in her ear. Emma shivered. His voice and proximity were doing things to her that under the circumstances should be illegal. The blasted pirate was tying her up for crying out loud. This was no time for her to lose her wits.

“Tying someone up with one hand, how does that work?” Emma asked, determined to find some leverage. 

Hook stepped around to face her. “You'd be surprised, love. Maybe one day I'll give you a demonstration.”

From across the clearing, Mary Margaret called out. “You get you hands _off_ my daughter.”

Hook winked at Emma before replying, “Hand, milady. I've only got the one, you see.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes as she continued to struggle against her own bonds. Emma looked around the clearing and saw Aurora and Mulan tied up as well. Cora must have provided quite a wallop, if the warrior among them has been captured too.

Having her mother and Hook spar was going to get them nowhere. Emma turned her eyes back to the pirate. “Where is Cora, Hook? Seems she's got you back on her leash. I'm disappointed, actually. The fearsome Captain Hook is nothing more than some evil witch's bitch. Who knew?”

Hook's expression turned dark. He narrowed his eyes at her. Then he leaned in close and said, “You'll be sorry you betrayed me, princess. More's the pity really. We could have been _brilliant_ together, you know.”

Emma ignored the squirming in her gut at his words. Because there was a terrible very, very wrong part of her psyche that knew he was right. Instead, she drew herself up to her full height (which was difficult because of her surprisingly tight bonds), and said, “Not in this world, Hook. And I'm so not a princess.”

“Oh, but that's where you're wrong, dear,” a voice said, just loud enough to be heard. Emma immediately recognized it as Cora's voice. The shape changing witch materialized out of nowhere in the middle of their makeshift campsite. “Why, you're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. And I'm afraid that makes you very much a princess.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Hook's jaw drop. She got some kind of perverse satisfaction from seeing the pirate so obviously confused. When he turned his gaze to Emma, his eyes were wide with surprise and something Emma couldn't identify. It unnerved her. But Hook was the least of her problems.

Fortunately, she was saved by her mother. “What does that have to do with anything, Cora?”

“I'm surprised you haven't worked it out, my dear Snow,” Cora said, smiling. “Emma's the key to returning to your world.”

Emma looked at her mother, and saw the same confusion she felt reflected in Mary Margaret's face. “What are you talking about? Because I'm pretty sure I left all my keys in Storybrooke.”

Cora's smiled wider and somehow more evil. “I can see why the Captain likes you, Emma. In a way, you remind me of Regina. She was willful and stubborn as well. The ashes alone are not enough to open the portal. Since you so inconveniently destroyed the wardrobe, the ashes require a catalyst to open it. A powerful catalyst. You, my dear, possess the most powerful catalyst there is.”

Emma was seriously confused. Quickly, she ran through everything she'd learned about magic in the last few days. Then she remembered the dragon. Gold had said she was the only one who could retrieve the potion because she was the product of true love. She looked at Cora in horror.

“My blood. You need my blood to open the portal.”

Cora simply nodded. Mary Margaret screamed in anger and frustration. “I won't let you do this, Cora,” she said, tearing running down her cheeks.

“I'm afraid you don't have much choice, dear,” Cora said. “Now if you'll be so kind as to tell me where the compass is, the Captain and I will be on our way.”

At the mention of Hook, Emma glanced around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't have time to wonder where he'd gone, but she was filled with relief at her mother's forethought.

“I don't have it,” Emma replied.

Cora laughed. “Nonsense, dear, the Captain saw you put it in your pocket. Now _where is it?_ ”

“Check my pockets; it's not there.”

Cora threw a hand out in front of her, waving it emphatically. Emma felt her pockets – _all_ her pockets – turn inside out. But there was nothing in them to be found. They'd hidden the compass earlier to keep it from Cora until they could get the ashes. Only she and Mary Margaret knew where it was.

In frustration, Cora ran up to Emma and started physically checking her pockets. When that confirmed what her magic had already told her, Cora held her hand in front of Emma's throat. Slowly she began to curl her fingers into a fist. Emma felt her airway begin to constrict painfully. She began to gasp.

“I don't need you alive to take the blood I need, Emma. Give me the compass!”

A vision of Henry swam across her eyes. Emma gasped and screamed, “Never!”

Suddenly the pressure on her airway lessened slightly. Dimly, she saw Cora's head turn as she swatted Mulan away from behind her, sword and all. Snow then took a run at the witch, screaming in fury. Her mother only got a few paces before she too went flying across the clearing. But it was just enough of a distraction. To Emma's complete surprise, Aurora fired an arrow from the far side of the clearing. Cora never saw it coming; her attention was being hammered from all sides in a matter of seconds.

Aurora's arrow lodged itself in Cora's lower back, causing the witch to crumple to the ground. The grip on Emma's throat vanished and she gasped for breath. She had no idea how her friends had gotten free of their bonds. Emma saw Cora writhe in pain on the ground, her dress beginning to soak with blood. The witch reached in vain to try and dislodge the arrow, but it was no use.

Emma struggled against her bonds, until she suddenly felt them come free. As she held up her hands, she felt something poke her in the side.

“You're welcome, love.”

Emma looked in the direction of the voice in shock. Hook. “What...why?” she asked, dumbly.

He just smiled. “Sort that out later, darling. Right now, we should go.” He held up the compass. “Shall we?”

Emma was about to ask how Hook had gotten the compass, when Mary Margaret ran up. “Emma, it's OK, I sent him.”

“ _What?”_

“Go now, talk...later,” Mary Margaret said. She held up the vial that contained the wardrobe ash. Emma's eyes widened. They were going home.

 

He didn't know what made him do it. But he saw the look in Cora's eyes when she said that she needed Emma's blood to open the portal. That look said that Emma would not survive the extraction, regardless how how much blood Cora actually needed. But the idea of the fire going out of Emma's blue eyes disgusted him. It was something he should have seen coming. The ashes and compass were never going to be enough. And Emma's life was one price Killian Jones suddenly found himself unwilling to pay. So he'd crept into the shadows, untying Emma's companions one by one. To each he whispered a plan to incapacitate Cora and retrieve the ashes. Snow looked at him with both relief and respect, which surprised him. Quietly, Snow explained how they had hid the compass and that she needed him to get it back. He was strangely honored that she would entrust him with the task.

The pain in Emma's voice as he raced to find the compass reached his ears and he prayed he wouldn't be too late this time. Once Emma was free, he tried to downplay the relief he felt. He was certain that Emma suspected nothing. How he had gone from cursing her name to saving her life?

Whatever it was, Killian was certain it led to nowhere good. But he was damned if he could stop it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who's left comments and kudos on this. Y'all really know how to feed the muse. :)

Killian led the way as the five of them ran through the woods. Thanks to Cora he knew where she'd intended to open the portal to Storybrooke. It also seemed prudent to get as far from the injured witch as they could. Killian had a suspicion that Cora wouldn't be incapacitated for long. He glanced over his shoulder; Emma and Mulan were right behind him. Snow and Aurora were trailing dangerously behind, but he couldn't worry about that. He was sure that Emma's mother could take care of herself.

After climbing over a log, Killian paused to get his bearings. Many years on the high seas had given him an excellent sense of direction. He glanced up at the sun and tried to gauge how far they had come.

“Tell me you're not lost,” Emma said, as she tried to catch her breath.

“Lost?” Killian scoffed. “I _am_ a pirate, love. A little faith?”

Emma scowled at him and turned to look for Snow. The two princesses seemed to have finally caught up.

“Is this the place?” Snow asked.

“I'm afraid not, your highness,” Killian said. “It's about a mile or so that way.” He pointed to the west. “See that cottage over there? _That_ is where we're going.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Emma asked. “Let's get this show on the road.”

“I thought you'd never ask,” Killian replied.

Together, they made their way over the small trail that lead to the cottage. Everyone was on edge; Mulan and Emma had their swords drawn.

“Why did Cora want to open the portal here?” Emma asked, as she matched him stride for stride. 

“Something about magical forces converging,” Killian replied. “It wasn't really any of my business, so I didn't ask.”

“How do I know you're not leading us into a trap?” Emma persisted. She really was the stubbornest, most distrustful person Killian had ever met. If he ever found the person who made her this way, he'd make sure they paid dearly for scarring her so cruelly.

“Really, darling?” he shot back. He stopped and looked her in the eye. “We're going to have this song and dance again? You're the human lie detector, you tell me.”

Emma stared at him. He stared right back. Time was short, but he was determined to give her as much time as she needed to believe him. No one said anything as they moved past them either. At length, Emma sighed. “Fine, I believe you.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Killian smirked. “I thought for a minute there I was going to have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way.”

Emma scoffed. “You're forgetting that I have the sword, Hook.”

“And I, my dear, have this,” he shot back, brandishing his hook.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Whatever, can we just go?” But Killian could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile on her face.

“After you, love.”

Emma brushed past him and jogged to catch up to Snow. Killian didn't rush after her, but he did enjoy the view.

Once they were at the cottage, no one was really sure what to do next. Emma paced like a caged cat, getting more and more frustrated. Killian would never admit it, but he was getting nervous as well.

“Can it really be that simple?” Snow asked aloud. “Just add the blood to the ashes and poof, a portal?”

“Well, we won't know until we try,” Emma snapped. She took out her dagger and sliced it across her palm. She didn't even wince. As the blood pooled in her palm, she asked, “How much do you think it needs?”

“Not more than a few drops, dear.”

Everyone froze. It was Cora. She was gripping the door jam for support; she was clearly weak. Still dangerous and deadly though, as Killian well knew.

What happened next was a bit of a blur to Killian. Mulan charged the witch. Aurora followed her. Emma ran to her mother, frantically trying to get drops of her blood into the vial of ashes. Killian ran to join them; he'd be damned if they left him behind. He could see the contents of the vial begin to change color from a faint pink to deep blue. Killan was suddenly knocked off his feet, mere steps away from Emma. He hadn't tripped. It was Cora trying to stop him from getting to the portal, even while dealing with Mulan and Aurora. As he was getting to his feet again, he looked on in horror as Cora sent a thousand shards of glass toward Emma and Snow.

Killian didn't think. He just moved. He barreled into the two women knocking both of them to the ground. He vaguely felt pain in his shoulder, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of falling.

 

It was like a roller coaster. That moment when your stomach flies into your throat. Emma hated that feeling. She wasn't afraid of heights exactly; she just preferred to keep her feet firmly on the ground. Now here she was falling through a portal. Again. And she had no idea where it would go. Hook still had the compass.

It felt like hours, but Emma knew it was only seconds. She landed with a heavy thud on the rocky ground. The force nearly knocked her unconscious again, but Emma forced herself to focus. Her vision swam, but after a few deep breaths it cleared. It was dark, but Emma could make out Mary Margaret lying a few feet from her. _Thank god_ , she thought. Wherever they were, at least they were together.

Gradually, Emma sat up. She moved experimentally; nothing felt broken. Next to her, Mary Margaret did the same.

“Where are we?” Emma asked.

Mary Margaret pointed. Emma looked in that direction and her jaw dropped. It was the toll bridge. It was _Storybrooke's_ toll bridge. It had the sign with the painted on R. Somehow, they'd made it.

“Where are Mulan and Aurora?' Snow asked.

Emma peered thorough the blackness, but she didn't see them. “I hope they're alright, because wherever they are it isn't here.” She had a memory of Mulan attacking Cora, but her focus had lasered in on the ashes once the witch made her entrance. But there was no sign of Cora either, so that had to be a good thing, right?

Emma heard a faint groan off to her left. She was shocked when she saw who was lying there. It was Hook. He had the compass clutched in his lone fist. It really had led them home. Quickly, however, Emma zoned in on the reason the pirate was groaning. There was a large piece of glass lodged in his left shoulder. Emma vaguely remembered hearing glass shatter, but she'd been preoccupied.

“Oh my god,” Mary Margaret said, noticing Hook as well. “He saved us. There was glass and...oh my god.”

Emma was already moving. The stupid pirate had saved her life twice now; she wasn't going to let him die until she got some answers. Carefully, she rolled him over onto his back and examined his wound. The shard was smaller than she'd first thought, but it looked deep. She was afraid to pull it out; if it nicked something he could bleed out.

“Here, let me,” Mary Margaret said. “I have some experience with stab wounds.”

Emma watched as her mother examined the pirate. Hook kept drifting in and out of consciousness, whether from the loss of blood or the fall, Emma didn't know.

“Hold him still,” Mary Margaret ordered. He looked pretty still to Emma, but she did as she was told. Mary Margaret grabbed the shard and yanked it as fast she she could. Hook jerked violently, but Emma held him as still as she could.

“What did you do that for?” Emma asked. “He needs to get to the hospital.”

Mary Margaret ignored her and pulled off her sweater. She began to tear it into strips quickly. Once she was finished, she wadded several on top of Hook's bleeding shoulder and used the rest to secure them.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret, “the hospital is a bad idea. Gold has eyes and ears all over this town. If he knows Hook is here, who knows what he'll do.”

“So we do what? Take him home?” Emma shook her head. “Nope, not happening.”

This entire scenario was _insane_. Why did he keep saving her? Now the idiot had gone and gotten himself injured on purpose. Emma tried to ignore the part of her brain that told her the opposite was true. That line of thinking led to nothing but heartache and badness. Now she was supposed to what? Play nursemaid? Guide him through Storybrooke? Hand him Gold on a silver platter? Ugh, stupid pirate. Stupid, stubborn, sexy pirate.

Mary Margaret took her hand. “Emma, listen to me. You didn't see the look in his eyes when Cora was strangling you. I did. He may not know it yet, but he cares about you. So much that he's saved your life twice. As your mother, I can't help but respect that.”

Emma looked down at the again unconscious pirate. Mary Margaret was right. At the very least, Hook deserved the chance to explain himself. And if he so much as looked at her or anyone she cared about in a way she didn't like...well, Emma was the Sheriff. She'd just lock him up. Problem solved.

Now they simply had to figure out how to get him back to the apartment without being seen.

In the end, they decided that Mary Margaret would return to town and bring back David and his truck. Emma spent a tense half hour under the toll bridge waiting for her family to return. Her family. That was a word she never thought she'd use in her life. Emma was anxious to see Henry. All she'd gone through in the Enchanted Forest had been to get back to him; she hoped he was alright in her absence. If something had happened to her son, there was no telling where her wrath could lead. Now that Mary Margaret, David and Henry were in her life, the universe would have to pry them out of her cold dead fingers before she'd lose them again.

When Emma finally heard the rumblings of David's truck, she stood and peaked her head around the corner. Henry was waving frantically at her from the passenger side of the truck. Emma grinned in relief. Henry was fine. David had barely come to stop before Henry was out of the cab and jumping into her arms.

“Emma!” Henry exclaimed. “You did it!”

“Yeah, kid. We did,” Emma replied, tears threatening spill onto her cheeks as she held her son close.

David climbed out of the truck, grinning as well. He didn't say anything; he just wrapped his arms around her and Henry for a long moment. When he released her, Emma nodded at him, letting him know that they would talk later. She was a bit nervous to have a private conversation with her father. She and David hadn't had the best relationship before, and judging from what little she knew about who he really was, she had seriously misjudged him.

Emma gently disengaged herself from Henry and brought David to where Hook lay. Together, they lifted Hook and laid him the bed of the truck. Once the pirate was situated and Emma checked his makeshift bandage to make sure it was still in place, she joined Henry and David in the cab. Minutes later they pulled up in front of the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret. Emma was surprised to see Dr. Whale there when they arrived. Nor did she miss the curt nod between her father and the doctor. Obviously, something happened while they were gone, another thing that Emma would need to ask David about later.

Emma and David carried Hook into Emma's bedroom and laid him on the bed. They left Dr. Whale to do his work on the still unconscious pirate. Emma collapsed on the couch, suddenly she was _exhausted._ The events of the last few days had taxed her reserves like nothing else ever had. Emma didn't even remember falling asleep.

  

When Killian next opened his eyes, he was very disoriented. The last thing he remembered clearly was lunging at Emma and Snow. Everything after that was either blurry or blank. He took stock of the room he was in, trying to figure out where he was. The bed was soft and very comfortable; it was the first bed he had slept in...well, he wasn't sure how long it had been. The room was semi-dark; it was difficult to make things out. When Killian tried to rise, pain shot through his shoulder. He looked down at his chest and saw the bandage. He must have gotten struck by some of the flying glass, but Killian was damned if he could remember it. Obviously sitting up – especially unassisted – was out. Killian cast his eyes about the room once more. Finally on the nightstand he got his answer. There was a picture of Emma and Snow; the two women smiled back at him in what could only have been happier times. It was a beautiful rendering; they looked exactly as they did in life. Killian didn't know how that was accomplished, not even the greatest portrait painters could be so exact.

Awkwardly, Killian reached over and lifted the portrait off the nightstand. His shoulder throbbed, but he managed to ignore it. He was mesmerized the smile on Emma's face. It was something he had yet to see; her whole face lit up when she smiled.

“You might want to put that back before my mom wakes up,” a voice said.

Killian was so startled he nearly dropped the picture. He recovered in seconds, lowering the picture to his chest to see his visitor. It was a young boy who couldn't have been older than ten. He leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed. Killian could see traces of Emma in the boy's face; this must be the son she spoke of when they were climbing the beanstalk.

“You must be Emma's son,” Killian replied.

“Henry.”

“Well, Henry, you're a brave lad to keep watch over me.”

Henry smiled. “You don't seem very scary. So far anyway. Besides, my mom's in the next room. She's got her gun.”

Killian laughed. Yes, this was definitely Emma Swan's son. Killian moved to adjust the blanket that covered him. He was unprepared for how Henry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he did.

“Holy crap!” Henry exclaimed. “You're Captain Hook!”

“So you've heard of me as well. I must have quite the reputation in your world.”

Henry stared at the hook for a long second before turning and running from the room. That was unexpected. Killian hadn't meant to scare the boy. Henry was back seconds later, however. He was carrying a large book under his arm, which he laid down on the bed next to Killian. Feverishly, Henry rifled through the pages looking for something. When he found what he was looking for, Henry held the book up to Killian in triumph. Killian looked at picture of himself and that blasted fairy, Tinkerbell. But how had that gotten to Emma's world? Especially since as far as Killian knew, it was a world without magic.

“Have you really been to Neverland?” Henry asked excitedly. “What about the Lost Boys? And Peter Pan?”

Killian smiled at Henry's obvious enthusiasm. “Tell you what, Henry. You fetch me a drink and I'll tell you all about my adventures in Neverland.”

“Cool!”

Once Henry had gone, Killian put the picture of Emma and her mother back on the nightstand. Until he could speak to Emma herself, he figured it would be a good idea to get into her son's good graces. It could go a long way in gaining her trust if he showed an interest in her son. He didn't know why that was so important to him, but he had saved her life. That had to count for something, right?

Killian was telling a story about one of his entanglements with the pesky Peter Pan when Emma appeared in the doorway. She looked half surprised and half resigned to seeing Killian with her son. But she wasn't verbally attacking him yet, so Killian chose to interpret that as a good sign.

“Good morning, love,” he said.

“It's afternoon actually,” she replied.

Henry ran over to his mother and hugged her tight. “You're awake,” he said, clearly relieved.

“Sure am, kid,” she said as she released him. “Didn't someone tell you not to bother our guest?”

“But Emma, it's Captain Hook! He was telling me all about Neverland.”

“So I see. Could you go check on Mary Margaret for me, Henry? I need to talk to Killian.”

Killian realized with a jolt that that was the first time she had said his name – his real name and not that ridiculous moniker – out loud. He tried not to read too much into it though; she was probably just trying to be polite in front of Henry. But still. It was something.

After Henry left, Emma shut the door. She turned to face Killian. Her eyes were wary and uncertain, much like they had been when she left him with the giant. He could read her well enough to see that part of her very much wanted to trust him, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Again, he cursed the person that did this to her.

At last, she spoke. “Why'd you do it, Hook?”

He knew exactly what she was asking. The problem was that he didn't really have an answer; at least not one that Emma would want to hear. In his head, a voice said he knew exactly why, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it? So he decided to play dumb instead.

“Well, Emma, Henry can be quite persistent, you see. He threatened all sorts of tortures if I didn't talk.”

Emma half smiled. “I wasn't talking about Henry; although we'll talk about that little display too. The short version of _that_ is: stay away from Henry. Until I can figure out what to do about you.”

Killian smirked. “I can think of a few things we could do.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She took Henry's place in the chair next to the bed. “I'm serious, Hook. Why did you save me? Because I'll be damned if I can figure it out.”

“Would you rather I hadn't? Bit late for that, darling.”

“No! Of course not. I'm just...confused. I mean, I left you up there with that giant. You were _furious._ ”

That was the point Killian kept returning to as well. He _had_ been furious. He had been prepared to make Emma pay for leaving him alone with the giant after he had risked his life to help her get that bloody compass. But when Cora threatened her life all that evaporated. All that mattered in that moment was keeping her alive. So he replied with the only answer that made any kind of sense to him.

“It was the honorable thing to do.”

“Honorable?” Emma shot back. “What does a pirate know about honor?”

“Believe it or not, love, pirates do have a code.”

“A code for what? How to steal and pillage?”

Killian chose to ignore that. “Emma, listen to me,” his voice serious. “Cora was going to _kill_ you. You heard her at that cottage. She only needed a few drops of your blood to open the portal, but it didn't matter. She wasn't going to let you leave that forest alive. Now if you have a better idea about what I should have done in that moment, I am all ears, love.”

It was the best he could do. He couldn't explain to her what he did not yet understand himself. How could he tell her that the idea of her death had filled him with dread? That it caused his stomach to drop? She hadn't recognized the look in Cora's eyes; Killian had. It took a killer to see it and Emma Swan was no killer. But Killian was. He'd killed his fair share in the last three hundred years.

Emma sat there, clearly speechless. The silence dragged on uncomfortably. Killian tried not to fidget under Emma's wide eyed stare. If she was going to turn him out, he wanted to at least maintain his dignity. But when he shifted his weight, pain shot through his shoulder again and he winced.

That finally snapped Emma out of her trance. “Does that hurt?” she asked somewhat unsteadily, nodding at the bandage.

“I've had worse,” he replied, relieved that she was speaking again.

“You should probably have that bandage changed. I think Dr. Whale left some stuff here; I'll be right back.”

Now Killian truly didn't expect Emma to return. He knew a frightened animal when he saw one. But to his surprise, she did return. Her face was composed; her mask firmly back in place. When she sat down, Emma studied his shoulder critically. He was still wearing his tattered shirt, but it had taken a beating. There was a large tear where the glass shard had been ; the edges were crusted with dried blood.

“Damn, there's nothing for it. Hold still,” she said. Emma took a deep breath and grabbed the remains of his shirt, tearing through the fabric. As gingerly as she could, Emma pulled the ruined pieces away from his torso and threw them on the floor. She had managed to avoid touching his skin, but now she had no alternative. Killian grinned.

“Like what you see, love?” he asked, teasing.

“Nothing I haven't seen before, Hook,” she replied without missing a beat. _There_ was the Emma he knew.

“So you regularly have shirtless pirates in your bed? This is _your_ bed, isn't it?”

“You were too heavy to carry upstairs. You might want to watch what you eat from now on.”

“Darling, I am _wounded_. Is this how you honorable types treat the man who saved your life?”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “Just hold still.”

“As you wish.”

Carefully, Emma pulled off the old bandage. She tossed it into a bucket on the floor, then refocused on his shoulder. “Looks like you took a couple of stitches,” she said. “But it doesn't look infected or anything.”

“I'm going to assume that is _good_ news?”

“It's definitely better than the last time I had stitches. I was fifteen. Took a nasty fall in my high school swimming class. I lacerated my scalp. Took ten stitches. And then it got infected. _Not_ a fun time.”

“You can't swim?”

“What? Of course I can swim! Class was mandatory. Anyway, why am I telling you this?”

Killian smirked. That was the second time she had shared something about herself without meaning to.“You brought it up, princess.”

“Whatever.”

Emma took a wet cloth and cleaned up the dried blood around his wound.. As she did, she laid a hand on his should to hold him still. His skin tingled where she touched him. To his surprise, his breath caught in his chest. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Emma quickly pulled her hand away, the barest hint of pink tinting her cheeks. So. She had felt it too. Emma ignored his smirk as she raised the clean bandage up; Killian reached out with his good hand and stopped her.

“Not going to kiss it and make it better?” he asked, innocently.

Emma huffed. “Seriously?”

“What? Is that such an unreasonable request?”

“You're a grown man, Hook. And I haven't even done that for Henry!”

“Afraid?” Killian challenged.

Emma narrowed her eyes. He _knew_ she wouldn't be able to resist the challenge. She was a tough, stubborn lass. “Fine.”

Emma placed the bandage down on the nightstand. Then she leaned toward him, her golden hair slipping underneath his chin and pressed her lips to his skin. The tingling he felt earlier was nothing compared to the feel of her lips on his chest. All to soon she pulled away and stared at him. He was just about to break the silence when Emma said, “Screw it.” Then she lunged toward him, capturing his mouth with hers. Killian's surprise nearly overwhelmed him, but he recovered, his good hand tangling in her hair. He kissed her back fiercely, his tongue swiping across her lower lip demanding entrance. She surprised him again, opening for him eagerly. He felt her arms go around his neck as she raised herself up from her chair and joined him on the bed. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, neither willing to back down. She was warm and passionate and fit against him like she was meant to be there always. It was like nothing Killian had felt in his three hundred years. And he was sure that if he lived another three hundred he'd never feel it again.

When air finally became imperative, Killian slowly peppered Emma's throat with kisses. She panted in his arms. “Killian,” she breathed. 

“Hm?” he murmured. He stroked her back with the curved edge of his hook absentmindedly. A few seconds later, Emma froze.

“Oh my god,” she said, in horror. Killian's face fell. The frightened animal was back.

“Emma,” he began, but she never let him finish. She tore herself out of his embrace and ran. 


	3. Chapter 3

Emma stared out at the ocean. She'd always wanted to live near the ocean. Granted, she'd pictured a place more closely associated with warmth and palm trees, but there was something to be said for the cool tempestuous nature of the northern Atlantic. At this moment, it was almost a direct reflection of the emotions swirling around her head.

She had kissed Captain Hook. Not just a brush of her lips against his skin either. No, it had been a full on open mouthed, tongue dueling, climb up into his lap kiss. She still had trouble believing it had actually happened, despite the way her lips still tingled. What was that? It was like nothing she had felt before. But even more importantly, Emma was disgusted and ashamed of herself. What was she thinking? Emma had absolutely no idea what had come over her.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Emma would had to have been blind not to recognize that he was attractive. Between the leather, the scruff, the smirk and those blue eyes, he was pretty much the epitome of male attractiveness. Clearly, it was pointless to deny to even herself that she was attracted to him. She was, end of story. But that didn't explain why she had practically tried to inhale him.

So what then? Was it simple gratitude for saving her life? That didn't make sense. Her mind went back to the look in his eyes when she asked him why he'd saved her. It said that he was just as blindsided by whatever was going on between them as she was. They barely knew each other for god's sake. And yet, he'd managed to see through her with ease. She felt so open, so exposed when he looked at her. It terrified her. How could she hide behind her walls when Killian made them non existent with one look?Emma knew nothing could come out of what she was feeling. He was a pirate, loyal to no one but himself. Besides, he had a mission to avenge someone he loved. How could she even begin to compete with that? No, it was better to just lock away her feelings until they inevitably went away.

Emma heard a plank in the dock creak behind her. Inwardly, she groaned. If there was ever a time she didn't want to be bothered by her newly found family, this was it. Reluctantly, she turned around.

“Look, I know you mean well, but I really would like to be alone right--” Emma closed her mouth abruptly when she set eyes on her visitor.

It was Killian.

A thousand things ran through her head. How did he find her? What in the hell was he _wearing?_ And how did he mange to make a simple gray tee paired with those blasted leather pants look sexy? Most importantly, why had he come after her? She had to remind herself to breathe.

“That's a pity, Emma,” he replied. “And I don't think anyone has ever accused me of meaning well.”

“That I can believe,” Emma shot back, determined regain her composure. “What do you want, Hook?”

“Do you really need to ask that, darling?”

Emma frowned. “ _Yes_ , I do. And how did you even find me anyway?”

Killian smiled and Emma had to remind herself to breathe again. Stupid pirate. “You're not as unpredictable as you like to think, love,” he reminded her. “A sailor can always recognize a kindred soul. A few well placed queries and here I am.”

“But why?”

“Honestly, Emma, are we going to do this? We both know what's going on here. You kissed me, as I recall.”

Emma looked at the ground, sheepishly. So much for the ignoring the elephant in the room. Now that she was face to face with Killian, her plan of boxing away her conflicting emotions seemed less practical. But what choice did she have? There was no way in hell she was trusting him. And yet, she'd be lying to herself if she didn't find the effort he'd put in to find her endearing. She couldn't recall anyone ever doing that for her before.

_Get a hold of yourself, Swan,_ she thought. _He's just an untrustworthy pirate. Nothing more._

Resolve back in place, Emma looked Killian in the eye. Better to get this over with, like ripping off a band aid. “That was a mistake, Hook. I'm sorry if you thought there was more to it. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Killian fixed her with a stare. “It didn't feel like a mistake to me, Emma.”

“Well...it was.”

“Liar.”

Emma actually laughed. “Captain Hook calling _me_ a liar? That's rich.”

But Emma was not prepared for the speed with which Killian closed the gap between them. He stopped centimeters from her face. She could feel his breath on her skin; she shivered unconsciously. “No, Emma Swan. _Killian Jones_ is calling you a liar. You want play this game? Fine. You want to pretend that _this_ ,” he grabbed her left hand with his right and it felt like fire against her skin, “isn't happening? Fine. I'm a patient man, Emma. Remember that.”

With that, he turned and walked away. Emma remained rooted to the spot where she stood, staring at his retreating back. She was _so_ screwed.

 

For the next few weeks, Emma avoided Killian as much as she could. This was made difficult by the fact that he was still staying in the apartment. Emma just didn't know what else to do with him. Her duty as sheriff wouldn't let her just turn him out onto an unsuspecting Storybrooke. In addition, every time she mentioned it to Mary Margaret, her mother would get that look and remind her that the infuriating pirate had saved her life. David tried to steer clear of any involvement, but he was civil to Killian whenever the two men happened to be in the same room. Henry was the least help though. The kid had taken a serious shine to the pirate, despite Emma's best efforts. How was Emma supposed to get rid of him if her own family was against her?

It was late afternoon at the sheriff's station; Emma was sorting though some paperwork. She'd been busier after her return from the Enchanted Forest. Now that all the townspeople remembered who they really were, old resentments flared up all over the place. Rarely a day went by that she didn't get a call about some incident. Quite a few of them involved Mr. Gold, to the surprise of no one. Knowing what she now did about him in addition to her first hand experiences made her more wary of him than ever. And she still owed him that favor. She couldn't fathom what he could need from her. Wasn't he supposed to be all powerful now or something? Whatever the favor was, Emma was certain it was nothing good. She'd just have to cross that bridge when she got to it, like she had everything else in her life.

Emma was stirred out of her thoughts by a rap on the glass of her office. For a terrifying second, Emma thought it would be Killian. He hadn't gone out of his way to antagonize her since that day at the dock, much to her surprise. She'd expected him to keep pushing her buttons just because he could. But Killian had respected her space, which just served to confuse the hell out of her.

Fortunately, her visitor was David. She smiled. “Hi, David.”

“Everything going alright?” he asked, his expression neutral. Suddenly, Emma had a bad feeling about this conversation. A very bad feeling.

“Sure,” she replied, trying to sound more assured than she felt.

“You haven't been home much, Emma. I'm worried about you.”

“Honestly, David, there's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine.”

“Emma,” David said, sternly. It was the first time he'd really used his father voice with her. It felt nice. But Emma knew she had to nip this line of inquiry in the bud. It would lead to nowhere good.

“David, I've taken care of myself my whole life. You really shouldn't worry. I am a grown up, you know.”

David crossed his arms and continued to stare her down. It struck her that it must be the same look she got when talking to Henry sometimes. “You may be an adult, Emma, but I am still your father. It's my prerogative to worry about you.”

Emma smiled. It really was striking how much she and David were alike. In her fantasies growing up, she'd always imagined herself as a daddy's girl. And now here she was playing it out in real time. Emma got up and went over to him. She put her hand on his crossed arms and squeezed.

“Really, David, I appreciate the concern. But this is something I need to work out myself.”

“Is it the pirate?” he asked. “Has he done something? Because I have my sword, still.”

Emma chuckled. The idea of David and Killian in a swordfight over her was both the most ridiculous and most endearing thing she'd ever heard of. In different circumstances, she'd almost want to see it. If Henry's book was accurate, the man in front of her was quite the swordsman.

“You should probably keep the sword sheathed, your highness,” she teased.

David half smiled. “I'm serious, Emma. Maybe not about the sword thing, but I am about the pirate. Something happened in the Enchanted Forest, didn't it?”

“You mean other than him saving my life? Absolutely not.” It was what had happened in Storybrooke that was the problem.

“Twice, Emma. Snow said he saved you twice.”

Emma winced. She kept forgetting that. Or rather _trying_ to forget it. “Your point is?”

“He must have had a reason. Did he tell you why?”

Emma squirmed uncomfortably. “Sort of,” she said, finally.

“Well, what was it?”

Emma sighed. “He said it was the honorable thing to do,” she said, using air quotes around the word honorable.

David's reaction was completely unexpected. His eyes went wide with shock. “Are you sure?”

Emma's brow knitted in confusion. “Yeah. Listen, what's the big deal? Killian, sorry, _Hook_ is a pirate. I don't think he even knows what the word honorable means.”

“I can't say I've met many pirates, Emma, but they do have a code. Maybe not the most morally upstanding code, but a code nonetheless.”

“That's what Hook said.” She paused. There was something David wasn't telling her, she could tell. “David, there's something else, isn't there?”

It was David's turn to look uncomfortable. “That is the exact same thing I said to Snow the first time I saved her life.”

“What?”

David smiled. “She'd stolen something precious from me. I captured her so I could get it back. We got attacked by some of Regina's soldiers. Snow got into a tough spot and I saved her. She returned the favor when she saved me from some trolls.”

Emma looked at her father in disbelief. “You guys met because she _stole_ something from you?”

David nodded. At least now Emma knew where her own thieving ways had come from. “Emma, didn't you read Henry's book? It's all in there. Mostly.”

“I must have skipped that part,” Emma said, dryly. “What did she steal?”

“Oh, a pouch full of coins, a few precious stones. And my mother's ring.”

A light went on in Emma's head. “Is that the ring Mary Margaret wears?”

“The very same. Your grandmother said that true love followed that ring. And she was right.”

Emma scowled. “David, if you're insinuating what I think you're insinuating, stop. Just stop right there.”

“I'm not insinuating anything, Emma. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own. But it _is_ an interesting coincidence.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “There is nothing going on between me and Hook.”

“Then why haven't you been home for more than a few minutes for the last three weeks?” David asked pointedly. Suddenly, they were back to why he'd come to talk to her in the first place.

“Fine,” Emma huffed. “Would you like me to spend some time at home? I can do that.” She hoped.

“I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, Emma. But I know Snow misses you. And Henry.”

He was totally guilt tripping her, wasn't he? Her own father was guilt tripping her! Honestly, though, Emma missed them just as much. She'd just have to suck it up and deal. She could do that.

“OK, I'll be home in a little while. Just let me finish up a few things, alright?”

“I'll let your mother know.”

“Thanks.”

Just before he left, David poked his head though the doorway. “Oh and Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too.”

Emma felt herself grinning. “Right back at you...Dad.”

Dinner that night went better than Emma expected. If you counted Killian charming the pants off her parents as better. David was nicer to the pirate than she could ever remember him being before. Seriously, did saving her life really carry that much weight? Emma was sensing a conspiracy. Rather than listen to all the chatter, Emma tried to talk to Henry, but that proved hopeless. Her loving son kept asking Killian about life on a pirate ship. It was maddening. What made it even worse was the way Killian kept looking at her when he thought no one but her was looking.

Eventually, Emma kicked him under the table. Childish, but effective. Killian must have decided he'd had enough, because he rose shortly after. “Another culinary masterpiece, your majesty,” Killian said. “Thank you.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “I'm glad you enjoyed it, Captain.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Now I really must turn in. I'll not keep you from Emma's sparkling company, which I fear is suffering due to my presence,” he grinned at Emma, knowingly.

“Night, Killian!” Henry said, as the pirate disappeared behind Emma's bedroom door.

Emma groaned. “I really wish you wouldn't encourage him, Henry.”

“But Emma--”

“Henry, he's a _pirate_. He can't be trusted.”

“But pirates have a code, Killian says.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw David smile. She ignored him. “I don't care what Killian says. Why can't you just trust me on this?”

“Henry's never been a boy who does what he's told, Emma,” Snow interjected. “You should know that better than anyone.”

Emma threw up her hands in frustration. Her whole family was against her apparently. Snow and David exchanged glances across the table.

“Henry,” David said, “how about we go over to the stables to check on your horse?”

“Sure!” Henry said. He reached out to hug Emma before they left. “He likes you, you know,” Henry whispered.

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Sure, kid. Have fun with David.”

Emma then decided to make herself useful and started clearing the table. Mary Margaret helped. They worked in silence for a while, but Emma had a feeling it wouldn't last.

“Henry's right, you know. About Hook.”

“Oh god, not you too. How many times do I have to say it? There is – nor will there ever be – something going on between Killian and I.”

“Then why is he still here?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Because...because I don't know what to do with him! I can't just let him wander Storybrooke! He wants to _kill_ Gold, remember?”

“But that's only half if it, Emma. If Hook really wanted to leave and go after Gold, he would. He's a resourceful man. And if you haven't noticed, you aren't exactly keeping him under lock and key.”

Emma blushed. That was true. She'd been so busy avoiding him that she hadn't bothered to make any arrangements so he couldn't leave. And yet he was still there. Why?

Emma put down the dish she was drying. “I don't know what he wants,” she said. Which was only a tiny lie.

“I think right now all he wants is a chance,” Mary Margaret said gently. “Look, Emma, I'm not saying you have to trust him. Your wariness is more than fair. But how can you know for certain if you don't take that chance?”

“I don't know how,” Emma said quietly. And it was true. She spent so much time protecting her heart that she didn't know how to use it.

Mary Margaret grasped her by the shoulders gently. “It's not a science, Emma. Just start slow. Spend some time with him instead of avoiding him like the plague.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret replied, smiling.

“I'll think about it, OK?”

“OK, we'll support you no matter what. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Emma hugged Mary Margaret tightly. Emma wasn't sure what she was going to do yet, but knowing that her family was there for her made her less afraid.

 

Killian was disappointed the next morning when he woke up and Emma was gone...again. He was so _sure_ she felt something for him, especially after overhearing her conversation with her mother the night before. Why else avoid him? It seemed clear to him that she was trying to wait him out. Eventually he'd give up if she ignored him long enough. And he'd thought about it. Often. But then he'd close his eyes and remember the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her skin. And he'd be lost all over again.

But his thoughts of Emma were not without consequence. The fleeting pleasure he got came with guilt. He'd spent the last three hundred years plotting his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, to avenge his Milah. And now that his Crocodile was within his grasp, he did nothing. There were times when he had trouble remembering Milah's face. That was when the guilt nearly became overwhelming. Yet still he couldn't bring himself to leave the sanctuary of Emma's family. He had a feeling that if he left now, he would ruin any chance of gaining Emma's trust. And that was something Killian was not yet ready to give up. So he waited.

That evening, Killian sat in one of the large armchairs that Snow had placed in Emma's room for him. He picked up the book that Henry had given him to help Killian familiarize himself with this realm. Over the last few weeks, Killian found himself in Henry's company often. He remembered Emma's edict on his interaction with her son and chuckled. Not listening to their elders was obviously a Charming family trait. Killian found he enjoyed the boy's company and it was better than mind numbing boredom.

He was reading about something called steam engines when there was a knock on the door frame. Killian looked up, expecting to see Snow or Henry and was surprised to see Emma standing in the doorway. Long seconds passed in silence. Finally Killian broke it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, princess?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Why shouldn't I? It's what you are. The daughter of a prince and princess.”

“Maybe in your world,” Emma shot back. “But definitely not here.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about that, lass. And last I checked we were from the same world.”

“Whatever, semantics.” Emma looked down, trying to find the words for whatever she came to say. When she looked up, her stormy eyes were determined. “Listen, I'm grateful to you for saving my life. And Mary Margaret's. But I don't know what you want from me, Hook. I have nothing to give, aside from that.”

His poor, broken Emma. Did she really think that he wanted or needed her gratitude? Saving her life had been selfish, for his benefit as much as for hers. What he wanted was _her_. In the weeks since they kissed, he'd come to recognize that much. Did he love her? Even Killian wasn't sure of that. But there was a spark when he was with her that he hadn't felt in a long time. And Killian Jones was selfish enough to want more of it. Here she was reaching out and Killian intended on taking full advantage.

“As lovely as your gratitude is, darling, I was thinking of something far more concrete.” Casually, he let his gaze wander over to the bed.

Emma followed his gaze. “Don't even think about it, Hook.”

Killian smiled. “Are your thoughts always so dirty, my dear Emma? Something I'll need to keep in mind for future reference. I was talking about a drink.”

Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A drink?”

“Yes, a drink. With me. Is that so difficult?”

“Yes! I mean no, it's not.”

“Afraid you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself, love?” Killian said, suggestively.

“You wish.”

“We could test that self control now, if you like.”

Emma scowled. “Now...is not really good. Besides, it's late. I need to say goodnight to Henry and go to sleep myself.”

“Tomorrow then,” Killian countered, determined not to give up. 

“Fine,” Emma sighed. “It's probably better to get it over with anyway.”

Killian rose from his chair and crossed the room. He stopped in front of her just as he did on the dock, but this time in happiness rather than frustration. She was going to allow him a foot in the door. And that was all Killian needed, really. A chance. Gently, he grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Until tomorrow then, love.”

Emma nodded slowly and took her leave. This was definitely a challenge that Killian was going to enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me. I have overcome my assorted computer issues, so hopefully updates will be faster. Fingers crossed. On with the show!

Emma didn’t sleep well that night. Her excuse to Hook about needing her sleep had been just that: an excuse. Because he was getting to her. Worse, she was _letting_ him. Emma had walked in there intending on telling him that there was no way they were ever going to happen. Ever. Instead, she wound up agreeing to a date. No. Not a date. A drink. One drink. And then she could tell him to take a hike, to go attempt his revenge (which, of course, she would have to stop; she was the Sheriff after all) or whatever. She didn’t care, as long as he got far away from her.

When Emma got back from the station, she found Mary Margaret and Henry packing Henry’s overnight bag.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked.

When Mary Margaret looked at her guiltily, Emma immediately grew suspicious. Something was going on.

Her mother put down some of Henry’s clothes and faced her daughter. “Henry’s going to stay with Regina for the night. She’s been doing really well lately and Henry thought...”

“Please, Emma?” Henry cut in. “I promise I’ll be good. I think she misses me.”

Emma frowned. Sending Henry to stay with Regina when against every instinct she had. The woman had tried to kill nearly every member of her family, for pete’s sake. Still, Regina had raised Henry for ten years. Barring any direct evidence of immediate evil, she couldn’t in good conscience keep Henry from her. Sometimes she really hated having a conscience.

Emma knelt in front of her son. “OK, kid. One night. Just promise me you won’t mention our house guest to your mom, alright?”

“You got it,” Henry said, grinning.

Emma hugged him tight. “We still on for our trip to the stables tomorrow?” 

Henry had been pestering her to see his new horse. She’d been too busy (OK, too busy avoiding the pirate) to do so. But she’d taken the next day off, so she could spend time with Henry. Lord knew she was going to need something to distract her from Hook’s imminent departure. Not that she cared about that. Absolutely not.

“I can’t wait to show you Jolly!” Henry said, excitedly.

“Jolly?” Emma asked, as she let him go.

“Yeah, like Killian’s ship, the _Jolly Roger._ ”

“You named your horse after a ship?”

“And why the bloody hell not?” Killian asked, appearing seemingly out of thin air. “A right good ship she was.”

Both Emma and Mary Margaret rolled their eyes. “Captain,” Mary Margaret said sternly, “language.” 

“My apologies, your highness.”

“I watch TV, you guys,” Henry said, looking incredulously at the adults. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be leaving for your mom’s? Don’t want to be late,” Emma said hurriedly. This was _so_ not a conversation she wanted to have.

Just then a horn honked. Four heads turned to look; Emma saw David waving through the window.

“Great,” Mary Margaret said. “David’s here! Emma, we’ll drop Henry off. See you later tonight!”

Emma was confused. Where the hell were they going? Storybrooke didn’t exactly have a nightlife. Plus unconsciously, Emma had been hoping that David and Mary Margaret would be there to make her drink with Hook less awkward. She pulled her mother into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” she whispered.

“David’s taking me to dinner at Granny’s.”

“Oh.” Something didn’t feel right. What were the odds that Henry and her parents would be out of the house on the night she happened to have a date - drink, damn it - with Hook?

“You know don’t you?”

Mary Margaret nodded, sheepishly. “Henry overheard you last night.” When Emma didn’t respond, she continued. “We thought it best to give you some privacy.”

Privacy was the _last_ thing Emma wanted. “Are you crazy?” she asked.

Mary Margaret eyed her warily. “Do you really want your parents along on your date?”

“It is _not_ a date!” Emma exclaimed. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. That had come our far louder than she intended. She couldn’t even look at where she knew Hook to be standing. A portal opening up beneath her feet would be preferable.

She was saved by the sound of David honking again. As Mary Margaret and Henry left, Emma barricaded herself in her bedroom. The last thing she saw as she closed the door was Hook smirking at her knowingly. Bastard.

Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to, Emma knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. After showering and changing, Emma took a deep breath and emerged from her bedroom sanctuary. She didn’t see Hook at first, but then she heard him curse. Rolling her eyes, Emma made her way to the kitchen.

She was brought up short by the sight of him bent over the open oven door. She sucked in a shallow breath. His back was to her, which was not helping her composure. He was wearing jeans that hugged him all the right places, a dark green button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and boots. Not even the contraption that held his hook could diminish the sight. If anything, it enhanced it. Emma felt her mouth go dry as Killian pulled the pan out of the oven and straightened.

“Bloody thing,” Killian murmured. It took him only a second to realize he was no longer alone in the kitchen. “About time you decided to rejoin the land of the living, darling,” he said, his eyes focusing on her face. He was about to say something else when Emma saw him look at her, _really_ look. The usual flirtatious twinkle in his eyes was quickly replaced by awe and the barest hint of lust, which was only half the reaction Emma expected. Lust she could handle; awe was something else altogether and could lead to nowhere good.

Honestly, Emma didn’t know what the big deal was. She’d worn this dress a hundred times before she moved to Storybrooke. It was ocean blue, one shouldered and came down to mid thigh. The material was so fine, it shimmered when she walked. Her hair hung in loose curls down her back. She’d seen men trip all over themselves dressed like this but none of them looked at her the way Killian did now.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he said finally.

Emma felt a smile tugging at her lips, finding herself secretly pleased that he was practically speechless. And that’s when Emma decided to quit worrying and just enjoy the moment. For a little while, she could pretend they were just two people that enjoy each other’s company for a few hours. She’d worry about the consequences later.

“Please tell me you’re not trying to burn the house down,” Emma said, nodding at the concoction sitting on the stove.

Killian grinned, as if sensing her change in mood. “Alright, you’ve caught me. Discovered my diabolical plan to burn you out of house and home.”

“Mary Margaret did this, didn’t she?”

“Aye.”

“Remind me to kill her later,” she joked.

“Because making sure you eat is _such_ a crime,” Killian countered.

“What happened to this being just a drink?”

Killian raised an eyebrow “I don’t know if you noticed, love, but neither of us is dressed as of this is ‘just’ anything.”

Emma blushed. “Point taken.”

“Shall we then?”

Emma nodded. Together they filled their plates with Mary Margaret’s wonderful dinner. Then they say across from each other at the suddenly too small dining room table. Killian poured them each a glass of wine; Emma accepted it gratefully.

As they ate, Emma thought of a million things she wanted to ask. Unfortunately, she couldn’t figure out how to ask without sounding like a gawking jerk. She surreptitiously watched him, fascinated by how he coped with one hand. She’d never really let herself notice before. She was reluctant to question him about something he was still touchy about if his anger at Gold was any indication. So she attempted to make small talk instead. Badly.

Finally, Killian put down his fork. “Alright, out with it, lass.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

“You’re imaging things.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Emma.”

Normally, Emma was a very good liar. She’d made a living from being a liar, after all. It was just Killian who saw through her.

“Fine,” she said, defeated. “I was just wondering...”

“Wondering about this,” he finished, tapping his hook with his index finger.

“Well, yeah. But if you’d rather not talk about it...I understand.”

Killian’s face darkened for a second. But only a second. Emma was afraid she’d over stepped, but then he was back. “I’d have been more worried if you didn’t wonder,” he said. “Everyone does, sooner or later.”

“Look, Killian,” she began.

But he didn’t let her finish. “It’s the same as everything else, really. You adapt. It took a long time, but eventually I got to the point where I could do practically everything a normal person can do. Even created a few new tricks for myself.” He grinned. “I can’t imagine being without it, now.”

“Really?”

“Aye. It’s made me who I am.”

“And who is that?”

Killian smiled softly. “Right now I’m a bloke trying to enjoy a drink with a beautiful woman.”

It wasn’t what Emma really truly wanted to know, but she decided not to push. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the answers to her questions. There was so much about all this that still frightened the crap out of her.

Instead of probing, she smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said.

“Is that a compliment, my dear?” he replied, grinning. “It’s about bloody time.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He stood “Now come.”

“Where?”

Killian led her to the couch. Emma was mildly confused until she saw Killian kneel in front of the TV. She watched with interest as he fiddled with the buttons. When he used his hook to pull the disk out of its case, Emma burst out laughing. The sheer absurdity of the evening clearly had gotten to her. Captain Freaking Hook was attempting to watch a movie with her. Dinner and a movie with Captain Hook. It was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to her and that was saying a lot.

“Something amusing, love?” Killian asked, annoyed.

“Sssorry," Emma whispered, wiping her eyes. She was crying, she was laughing so hard. “This is just so...bizarre.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow at her, bidding her to continue.

“I mean, you’re Captain Hook! I read about you as a kid! There are movies about you!" She paused for breath. “And now here you are. In my living room, trying to play a movie on my DVD player.” She paused again."It’s just a lot to take in.”

“This is no less bizarre for me, love.”

With a jolt, she realized that was true. Unlike her parents, Killian didn't have knowledge of the modern world downloaded into his brain. This was a whole new realm for him. And she'd ignored him, foisting explaining this world on her parents and Henry. He was _her_ responsibility, no one else's. And she'd seriously dropped the ball.

“I'm sorry.”

“For what, darling?”

“Avoiding you. I should have been the one acclimating you to this world. You saved my life; it's the least I could do.”

Killian got up and sat next to her. Not too close but she could still feel the heat radiating off him.

“If your gratitude was all I wanted, I'd have left a long time ago, Emma.”

Emma gulped. This was exactly what she was afraid of. But Emma was tired of letting her fears rule her. She'd defeated a dragon, broke a magic curse, befriended a giant and faced off with evil witches. In the face of all that, how frightening could Killian Jones be?

“So what do you want, Killian?” she asked quietly.

“I think you already know, sweetheart.”

“And what if I'm not ready?”

“Then I promise to be here when you are.”

Emma believed him. There was no deception in his bluest of blue eyes. That's when Emma knew she had her answer. Killian Jones was the most frightening person she'd ever met.

 

 

Killian was certain he'd spooked her. He'd come on too strong, too fast. It had not been his intention. What was it they said about good intentions? The road to hell and all that. Some truths remained no matter which realm Killian found himself in. 

The problem was that he had absolutely no idea how to proceed from here. Earning Emma trust was unlike any task he'd ever attempted. Usually his charm and cunning were enough to get him whatever he wanted. Even Milah, as much as he loved her, had fallen for him easily. Milah yearned for a life less ordinary, a life of adventure. He could sense that about her from the moment he met her that fateful night the _Jolly Roger_ had docked near her insignificant village. She was fascinated by his tales of glory and riches on the high seas. It wasn't until later that he came to appreciate her boldness, her bravery, her loyalty and ultimately her love.

But this went deeper than any of that. He'd been so alone for so long, consumed by his need for revenge. Killian had nearly forgotten what a genuine human connection felt like. And then suddenly there it was in front of him, in the person of one Emma Swan. He'd been so hurt and angry by her betrayal on the beanstalk. That should have been his first clue. Then when Cora had threatened her life, when the witch had nearly taken her from him, he simply knew he couldn't allow it to happen. At the time he'd rationalized it by attributing it to his code, that line even he refused to cross.

In the weeks since, Killian had come to realize that he _cared_ about her. Not just whether she lived or died, but her happiness. It was the first time he'd cared about someone other than himself or his crew in...gods, he didn't know how long. And when she'd kissed him, when he _felt_ what it would be like to have her...well, it was fortunate Killian wasn't a man who gave up easily.

So when Killian awoke the next day to a nearly empty apartment, he tried not to feel discouraged.

Emma's father sat at the kitchen counter sipping the drink this realm called coffee. Killian had tried it once and immediately decided that he preferred tea. The prince had anticipated him judging from the mug sitting on the counter.

“Captain,” the prince said, nodding to Killian as he entered the kitchen.

“Your highness,” Killian replied.

The prince frowned. “Maybe you should call me David. You've been here for what? Nearly a month now?”

“Aye.”

“Never been much for all that court formality, that was always Snow's area.,” the prince – David – said with a rueful grin.

“Your wife is a very kind woman.”

“Yes, she is. Better I deserve, honestly.” David sat his mug down, regarding Killian seriously. After a moment, he continued, “I never thanked you. For saving them and helping return them to me.” 

“It was to my advantage, as well,” Killian reminded him.

“All the same, I am grateful. I believe you have honorable intentions, even if they don't manifest in the most traditional of ways.”

“Emma is not a conventional woman, your highness.”

David smiled sadly, yet with pride. “No, she isn't. And I know she is more than capable of handling the likes of you. Prove me right, Killian Jones. I'd hate to have to cross swords with you; Henry seems fond of you.”

With that, David put his mug in the sink and left, leaving Killian a bit nonplussed. Fathers were not his area of expertise. Usually, he'd set sail before things ever progressed that far. But he respected David; indeed Emma and he were much a like, even Killian could see that. It also made him wonder how Emma would be different if there'd been no curse. Less guarded, surely. No, she would have known love and support all her life, every inch the princess. Even more probable that they'd never have met. That was a profoundly depressing thought.

Killian was roused from his reverie when the door opened. He looked up and saw Emma leaning heavily on Henry. The poor lad was nearly toppled under his mother's weight. Without a thought, Killian came around the counter and moved to Emma's other side.

“Here, let me, lad,” he said as he moved his arm around Emma's waist, placing his hook through one of the belt loops.

“Hook, you don't have to. I'm fine,” Emma protested as she she tried to shake him off.

“She fell,” Henry chimed in. “Jolly spooked and Emma tried to chase him.”

“You don't have much experience with horses, do you, love?”

“And you do?”

“I wasn't born on a ship, you know.”

Emma frowned. Then she winced. “Ow.”

“Let's get you to the couch, shall we?”

Emma let him lead her to the couch, where he sat her down as gently as he could. After he disentangled himself, he picked up Emma's leg with his hook and propped it up on the coffee table. He was about to reach for her boot when Emma batted his hand away.

“I told you. I'm _fine_.”

“You'll have to forgive me if I don't agree. Henry? Could you get some ice for your mum?” Henry nodded. “There's a good lad.”

“Could you stop?” Emma said, plaintively.

 “Stop what, love?”

 "Being so damned _nice_. It's embarrassing.” She paused. “What do you know about sprained ankles anyway?”

Killian joined her on the couch, irrespective of her personal space. “The deck of a ship is a hazardous place,” he said. “New crewmen tripped all the time. Not to mention getting your foot caught as we hoisted sail. Seen my fair share of bumps and bruises, lass.”

“What about you?”

“Captains do not trip,” he said indignantly. Then he saw her smirking; she was teasing him. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “All my scars are higher up, as I'm sure you recall.”

He grinned in satisfaction when she shivered against him and she regarded him with huge eyes.

Henry brought the small bag of ice, wrapped in a cloth. He sat it on the table to help Emma remove her boot gingerly. Carefully, Henry placed the bag on top of Emma's swelling ankle. It was definitely sprained, badly by the looks of it. She'd need to be off it for a few days at least. This was not unwelcome news to Killian. He was determined to use every minute to his advantage.

The next few days were challenging. Emma, as expected, was a terrible invalid. She complained constantly about everyone fussing over her.

“Seriously, Mary Margaret, I've had sprained ankles before. This is nothing.”

“Well, I haven't been around for those now, have I?” Snow replied. Killian didn't miss the hint of sadness in her voice. Whenever that happened, Emma would just go back to sitting quietly as her parents fussed. Clearly, she was reluctant to gainsay her parents when all they were trying to do was make up for lost time. It was during those moments that Killian began to understand just how much havoc Regina's curse had loosed. Her anger must have been great indeed to be willing to tear all the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest from their loved ones.

And not for the first time, Killian compared that to his own revenge. Would he have been willing to enact such a curse? Did his darkness run that deep? That Milah's death has unleashed his dark side, there was no mistake. But to what end? Could he stop at the destruction of Rumplestiltskin? Would he? Killian didn't have the answers, and that, more than anything else, unsettled him. What was he without his revenge?

“Hey, you OK?” Emma asked.

Killian shook himself out his thoughts and faced her. “Shouldn't I be asking you that, love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For the 875th time, I am fine. Why does that seem to be so hard for everyone to believe?”

“They're just worried about you. Best to indulge them, yeah?”

“This is your fault.”

“I'm not the one who lost a battle with a horse, darling.”

“No, if you hadn't been so hellbent on taking care of me, Mary Margaret and David wouldn't feel the need to fuss.”

Killian shook his head. “They're parents, Emma. It's what parents do, as I recall.”

“Your parents worrywarts too?”

Killian half smiled. “Can't really remember. My mother died when I was about Henry's age. She had a kind smile. My father disappeared when I was fifteen. I joined my first crew not long after.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love. It was long ago. I don't even remember what they looked like.”

Emma's brows knitted in thought. “Wait, exactly how old are you?”

Killian's smile returned. That was his Emma, always thinking, trying to figure things out. “How old do you think I am?”

Emma cocked her head to the side and studied him. “I'd say you look about thirty, but I have a feeling that's not right.”

“You're half right.”

“Which half?”

“I am thirty, or rather I was when we set sail for Neverland.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“About three hundred years, give or take.”

“Three hundred _years_?” Emma squeaked.

“I think I've held up rather well, don't you?” 

“That might be the understatement of the millennium.” She blew out a breath. “Wow.”

“Does it bother you?”

Emma laughed. “That might be the _least_ strange thing that I've heard since finding out my parents were Snow White and Prince Charming. I mean, it's Neverland, right? The boy who would never grow up and all that? For some reason, that makes sense to me.”

“Yes, Henry's tried to tell me about what your realm knows about Neverland. Can't say it made much sense, in truth.”

“Well, it might be easier to show you.” 

Killian raised an eyebrow. “And what did you have in mind, my dear Emma?”

Emma punched him in the arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Hook. I meant we could watch _Peter Pan_.”

Killian scowled. “Why does that hellion get the moving picture named after him?”

Emma chuckled. “OK, then. How about we watch _Hook_ instead? Although, you don't come off much better in that one, come to think of it.”

Killian winked at her. “I guess we'll see about that. Picking up where we left off, eh?”

Emma flushed. “Whatever.”

As the moving picture started, Killian felt Emma snuggle into his side. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, feather light. She didn't notice a thing. For a little while, Killian was content.

 

That feeling didn't last, of course. Emma went back to work a couple of days later. But she no longer avoided him. In fact, they spent quite a lot of time together when she wasn't working. Usually there was someone else in the room to act as a buffer, but that didn't stop Killian. He invaded her personal space and flirted shamelessly. Emma, to her credit and his ego, didn't back down. It seemed that he was slowly but surely breaking through some of her barriers.

That illusion came crashing down a week later. He'd suggested – not for the first time – that she allow him to leave the apartment and see Storybrooke. It was difficult to learn about his new home (especially since there didn't seem to be any way back to his old one) from the confines of the apartment.

“I told you, Killian, you can't.”

“And why the bloody hell not?”

“I'm not unleashing you on Storybrooke!”

“Storybrooke has nothing to fear from me, Emma.”

“But Gold – Rumplestiltskin – does.”

“Have I made one mention of the sodding imp since setting foot in your realm?”

Emma paused. “Well, no. But I can't just ignore it, Killian.”

“Can't ignore what, love?”

Emma slammed her glass on the counter. “It's the reason you're here, isn't it? You wanted to get to Storybrooke _so badly._ To get revenge on Rumplestiltskin. For your hand. For Milah. And I _can't_ let you. I'm the god damn sheriff, Killian!”

“You think I don't know that?” Killian shouted. “You think it doesn't kill me every day that Milah's death stands unavenged? For three hundred years I've thought of nothing – lived for nothing – expect my revenge. And now? To be this close to it and do nothing? It goes against everything I am, Emma.”

“Then why are you still here?” she asked, unshed tears welling her eyes.

“Because it would hurt you,” he said quietly.

That was true. This fragile thing with Emma was the only thing staying his hand. He didn't know how or why she had become more important than his revenge, but with every day that passed he could no longer deny the truth. If he went after the demon who took Milah from him, he would lose Emma. That was not a trade he was willing to make. Much like that night in the Enchanted Forest with Cora, Killian had no real choice. The idea of hurting her made him sick.

“What are you saying?”

Killian walked around the counter and cupped her cheek with his good hand. “I'm saying that you are more important to me now than revenge.”

“How?” Emma asked plaintively. “We barely know each other.”

“You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and yet you doubt me?”

“This is real life, Killian. Not a fairytale.”

“Well then I guess you're just going to have to trust me.”

Still angry, he turned and left her standing in kitchen alone. He grabbed one of David's jackets and went out into the night.

Killian spent hours roaming the town. The streets were largely deserted. And Killian was careful. He didn't want to alert Rumplestiltskin to his presence. Not just yet anyway.

What he'd said to Emma was true: he would not seek out Rumplestiltskin. Killian would not betray her trust that way. But it was impossible for him to remain in Storybrooke and not have some sort of confrontation with the imp eventually. And Killian would be ready when it did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of two updates and the rating's going up. (As soon as I figure out how to do that, lol)

When Killian came back to the apartment in the wee hours of the morning, he found Emma asleep on the couch. A blanket was wrapped around her legs and her head propped up in her hand. She looked so peaceful that Killian was reluctant to wake her, but when she shivered he knew he had little choice. He reached out and shook her shoulder gently.

“Wake up, love,” he whispered.

“Hmmm?” she replied, groggily. She opened her eyes, rubbing them with tired fingers. She squinted at him, trying to focus. “Killian?”

“Aye.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Didn't think I'd return?”

Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly caught. She really hadn't expected him to return. After everything, she _still_ didn't trust him. Or rather, she didn't trust herself enough to trust him. Killian wondered yet again just _who_ had done this to her. Who had betrayed her so badly that she couldn't open up to anyone? Was he just wasting his time trying to break though her defenses? But then why had she been waiting in the living room?

“Henry knew you would,” she said, finally.

“He's a smart lad.”

“Don't I know it,” she sighed. Emma swung her legs off the couch and motioned for him to sit. Once he did, she continued. “Look, this isn't easy for me. I _want_ to trust you, really I do. But it's just so damned _hard_.”

“Emma,” he began.

“Let me finish. I told you that I couldn't take a chance that I was wrong about you; I wanted to trust you even then. But I was scared; I still am. You remind me _so much_ of someone who betrayed me. The last time I felt like this, I got burned. I don't know how to get past it, Killian. I don't know if I ever will.”

“I'm not him, love. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the kind of man who gives up easily,” he said, with a small smile.

Emma graced him with a half smile. “Yeah, I had noticed that actually.” She paused. “I thought about what you said earlier, about trusting you, getting out of the apartment. And I had an idea. It's getting pretty crowded around here with the five of us.”

“I don't mind the close quarters, darling,” he said, suggestively.

Emma rolled her eyes. “That's _not_ what I meant, jackass.”

Killian raised his hand in surrender; he didn't want to provoke her into another row just when she started opening up. “What is your brilliant idea, lass?”

“Well, my parents are going to start looking for a bigger place tomorrow. They haven't said anything, but I think they need their own space. Henry and I would stay here and you...well, Mary Margaret suggested you stay on Leroy's boat down at the docks. Since you're a fan of the water and all.”

Killian wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That tiny, dilapidated dingy I saw at the docks? Not bloody likely.”

“It's not that bad...I don't think,” Emma said, uncertainly.

“You don't know a sodding thing about boats!”

Emma glared at him. “Look, Killian, I know it's not what you're used to. But when Mary Margaret and David move out, you can't stay here.”

“Afraid you'll jump me the minute they're out the door?” he said, only half joking.

“Honestly? Yes.” That shocked him enough that he abruptly shut his mouth. He knew that she was attracted to him, of course. But to hear her admit it out loud...maybe he was breaking through after all.

Emma looked down at her hands, clearly embarrassed to have admitted even that much. After long seconds, she looked at him. “I'm trying to meet you halfway here. I'm willing to _try_ , Killian. Do this for me?”

She looked so vulnerable and yet hopeful that Killian's heart broke for her. In that moment, she could have asked him to pull down the brightest star in the sky and he would have done anything to make it happen. Because she had finally admitted that there was something going on between them. That she felt something for him, felt enough that she wanted to see if it was real. To see if he could be trusted with her heart. Staying temporarily on a wooden death trap seemed like a small price to pay for that chance.

“Alright, love,” he said. “We'll do this your way.” His eyes narrowed. “You're not just going to leave me out there to drown, are you?” he asked.

Emma laughed. “I don't think I could; Henry will want to see you. I can hardly keep you two apart.”

“Like I said, smart lad.”

“Too smart for his own good sometimes,” Emma muttered. Then she yawned.

“You should get some sleep,” Killian observed.

“I was until someone rudely woke me up.”

“Seriously, love, go sleep. I'll stay here. Tomorrow we'll go see this death trap of yours.”

“It's not a death trap.”

“Pirate, darling.”

“Believe me, I know. Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, love.”

When Emma disappeared behind her bedroom door, Killian removed his hook and set it on the nearby table. Then he tried to get as comfortable on the couch as he could, using the blanket Emma had earlier; it still smelled of her. He must have been more tired than he thought because he was asleep in seconds.

The next day, Emma, Henry and Killian made their way to the docks. The only thing tied up there was the small boat that belonged to the dwarf. It looked exactly as it had the last time Killian saw it; sail missing, cramped, dirty and not exactly seaworthy. But the smell of the sea invigorated him like nothing else had since coming to this realm. It was the closest he'd felt to home in ages.

Henry ran ahead of them, crossing the small gangplank eagerly. “Not so fast, Henry!” Emma shouted.

“Still don't think it's a death trap, darling?” Killian asked.

“Shut up.”

“It hardly seems right that you're making me live out here on a vessel that you won't even let your son on.”

“I said shut up. And besides, you're an experienced pirate, right? Know your way around boats.”

“I know my way around _ships_ , love. That is no more a ship than this is a flesh and blood appendage,” he replied indignantly, holding up his hook.

“Whatever. Is this going to work or not?”

Killian ignored her and crossed the gangplank. The boat swayed a little with his weight, but not unduly so. He examined the deck from stem to stern, looking for loose and/or rotting planks. He was surprised to find none. Henry burst out of the small cabin carrying what appeared to be an antique sextant. Killian hadn't seen one like that in ages.

“Killian,” Henry said, excitedly, “look what I found!”

“Henry, be careful with that,” Emma cut in.

“It's fine, love. It's a sextant,” he said to Henry. “One that is very, very old by the looks of it. Hand it here, lad.” Killian examined it carefully; it was dirty and a tad rusted but appeared serviceable. He'd learned to navigate with a similar one when he young.

“What's it for?” Emma asked.

“Navigation,” Killian said. “Bit like a compass on the open sea.”

“Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “Can you show me?”

“Henry, not today,” Emma said. “We're here to get Killian settled, remember?”

Henry's face fell. “Oh, right.”

“Tell you what, lad, you get that thing cleaned up and as soon as I'm sure this little boat is seaworthy, I'll teach you.”

“Awesome, thanks, Killian!”

Emma took Killian aside. “David's already trying to make him a knight, now you want to teach him sailing?”

“What's wrong with that, love?”

“I just don't see how either of those skills will serve him in the real world.”

“He's the grandson of royalty, darling. Maybe his place isn't in your real world.”

Emma sighed. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

Killian decided it was best to change the subject. “Shall we inspect the cabin?”

Emma nodded and together they headed down the short ladder to the cabin. It wasn't as bad as Killian had feared. There was a small bed in the corner and a map table across from it. It was nowhere the size of his captain's quarters on the _Roger_ but it was enough for one person. And Killian promised himself it would only be for a little while.

Emma ran her finger over the dusty table, her nose crinkling. “This place is filthy.”

“You can still change your mind, love.”

Emma scowled and threw a rag at him. “It'll be fine once we clean it. Henry?” she called. “We've got some work to do!”

“Coming!”

For the next few hours, the three of them scrubbed and scoured every inch of the cabin and the lower hold. It was hard work, but gradually the boat became more habitable. David and Mary Margaret brought by some supplies and a stack of fresh clothes for Killian to use while he was on board. They all had dinner on the deck, with Henry regaling his grandparents with tales of being on board a vessel for the first time. Emma was mostly quiet, glancing at Killian every so often when she thought he wasn't looking. At dusk, the Charmings and Henry took their leave. Emma hung back.

“You'll be fine out here, right?” she asked.

“Emma, I've lived on a ship most of my life. But if you're that concerned, I'm sure we can work something out,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

Emma shook her head in exasperation. “I'm trusting you, Killian.”

“I know.”

She stared at him for what felt like a long time. Than she kissed him on the cheek and left. He watched her leave, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in three hundred years.

Neither of them saw the short, plump man with the red hat watching them from the shadows.

 

A week and a half later, Emma was helping her parents move into their new place. No one thought it was a good idea for them to move into the house that David had shared with Katherine, so they had to start from scratch. There weren't that many empty homes in Storybrooke, but thanks to Regina surprisingly, they secured a cute two story Colonial around the corner from Emma's apartment. So they would be close, but not too close, much to Emma's relief. She was way too old to be living with her parents.

“That box goes in the bedroom,” David said, as Emma crossed the threshold for what felt like the hundredth time. Seriously, how much stuff could they have?

“OK,” she replied. She tramped up the stairs once more, turning the corner at the top toward the master bedroom.

“Emma!” her mother exclaimed. “Why are you carrying that? It's too heavy. Here, set it on the bed.”

“I'm fine, Mary Margaret.”

“I'm going to kill Charming.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes, I am! You had a sprained ankle not that long ago. What is he thinking?”

“Mary Margaret, that was weeks ago. I. Am. Fine.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “I know that, Emma. Twenty eight years of maternal instinct is hard to repress sometimes.”

Emma laughed. “You don't need to repress it, just...moderate it a bit.”

“I'll try. I just feel so bad about all the time we missed, you know? This should not be our lives.”

Emma's heart broke for her mother. Like that day in her nursery – the one she never got to use – Emma was reminded of how much their separation had cost her parents as well as her. She hugged Mary Margaret tightly.

“It's the life we have, Mary Margaret. I learned a long time ago to roll with the hand you're dealt. We're together now, that's what matters.”

Mary Margaret stepped back and looked Emma, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “I am so proud of you, the person you've become. Your father is too.”

Emma blushed. She didn't consider herself to be particularly special, but her family always managed to make her feel like she was. All that attention made her feel slightly uncomfortable, like she wasn't worthy. Like when Henry tried to convince her that she was the savior. How could someone like her save people when she couldn't even save herself? It hadn't made sense then, and honestly it didn't make sense now either. She just didn't see what they saw.

“Thanks, but if you wanted me to carry more boxes, it's really wasn't necessary to butter me up first,” she joked.

Mary Margaret took the change of subject in stride; she wiped at her eyes quickly. “But it doesn't hurt though, right?” she said, smiling.

“Nope.”

“Speaking of moving and carrying, I can't help but wonder where our pirate friend is today.”

Emma groaned inwardly. “We've been through this. It's not safe for him to be out and about in Storybrooke during the day. Gold's still out there.”

“Have you seen him at all since practically banishing him to the docks?”

“It was your idea!”

“I didn't think you were going to put him under house arrest!”

“Who's under house arrest?” David asked, carrying a large box labeled “bathroom.”

“Killian,” Snow said, glaring at Emma.

“What? We agreed he couldn't stay with me once you guys were gone. I have Henry, remember? And he's not under house arrest!”

“Then why isn't he here?”

“I told you. Gold. It's not safe.” But that sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Not safe for him or for you?” Mary Margaret asked astutely.

David sat the box down. “Look, Emma. I don't pretend to know everything about relationships and how they work, but I do know that Killian has done everything you've asked of him. Mostly without complaint. It's obvious to anyone who sees you together that he cares about you. He doesn't deserve to be ignored.”

David was right, of course. She hadn't intended to ignore him; she started down to the docks at least a half dozen times. But something always held her back, like if she went there of her own free will, then this thing with them would become real. Ready or not though, it was happening. She missed him. Missed his sarcastic wit, his continued confusion with simple modern technology, the way he looked at her like she was the only one in the room. God, she was so sick of being scared.

“Go,” Mary Margaret said. “We can manage.”

David nodded encouragingly. Emma smiled gratefully and ran down the stairs and out the door. She hopped in her Bug and drove for the docks. She parked haphazardly and climbed out. Her eyes swept the deck of the boat, but Killian was nowhere to be found. _He must be below decks_ , she thought. He promised he would be there.

Emma marched up to the gangplank and crossed it. “Killian?” she called. No answer. Where was that damned pirate? Emma climbed down the ladder to the cabin. The bed looked like it had been slept in, so he was around somewhere. Reluctantly, she went down to the lower hold. Still no Killian. Then she heard someone cross the gangplank above. She traced her way back to the cabin, just as Killian entered it from above.

“I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me, love.”

“I know, I'm sorry. I meant to visit, I just...chickened out? God, this makes no sense.”

“Slow down, lass. You're here now.”

Emma sat on the stool next to the map table. “It's been pointed out to me recently that I keep making you jump through hoops, hoping that you'll fail at one so that I have an excuse to stay away from you.”

Killian smirked. “I had noticed that.”

“Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Eventually. But you're a smart lass, I knew you'd figure it out.”

“Well, I didn't so much figure it out as have my father wave it in front of my face.”

“He did, did he?”

“Yep.”

“I knew I liked him for a reason.”

“So what now?” she asked, hoping that he had the answer.

“That is something we can figure out...together. If you want.” he said, closing the space between them.

“We do make a good team,” she said.

“Aye.” He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. All too soon, he pulled away. Emma stared at him for long seconds, then she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back to her. She kissed him again, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. That fire she'd felt the first time they'd kissed like this was back. Her arms were around his neck before she knew what she was doing. Impatiently, Killian hauled her up off the stool and lifted her onto the table. He stood between her open legs, trailing kisses down her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist drawing him closer. He groaned at the contact; his hook trailing up her back. But this time it didn't frighten her. This time, insanely, it felt right.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered into her shoulder.

Emma hoped he didn't actually expect an answer; the fire that was slowly making its way down her spine was rendering her incoherent. She felt Killian's hand slip under her shirt; his fingers tracing a pattern against her skin that she didn't recognize but was clearly designed to drive her mad. In retaliation, Emma nipped at his right earlobe, earring and all. He growled and raised his head, looking her in the eye.

“You'll pay for that, love,” he muttered.

Emma stared right back, eyes full of challenge. “You promise?”

He grinned, the light in his eyes brighter than Emma had ever seen it before. He ran his fingers through her blond hair, leaning into her exposed ear. “Always,” he whispered. Emma shivered.

Then she felt the cold steel of his hook at the nape of her neck, followed by the sound of her shirt tearing down her back. She shrugged out of the ruined fabric and tossed it to the floor. Then she reached for Killian's shirt, dragging it over his head. It joined hers on the floor. His lips sought hers again, kissing her deeply while gently pushing her back to the table surface. His hook wrapped around the edge of the table while his free hand wandered down her torso. Everywhere he touched her stoked the fire. Her hands wandered the strong taut muscles of his back and shoulders. She even dared to slip one hand beneath the waistband of his jeans, causing his to grind his hips into hers with a groan.

The feel of his hardness rubbing against her core – even through their clothes – was near to painful. She couldn't recall the last time she wanted anyone this badly. To drive the point home, she bucked her hips up into his. She sucked hard on his pulse point as she tried to reach between them to unbutton his pants. But Killian stilled her hands – much to her annoyance – and raised himself up, breathing heavily.

“Patience, love,” he said, reaching for her pants. Deftly, he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zip. Slipping his hook through one belt loop and his fingers through another, he tugged on her pants. Emma raised her hips to help him, while toeing off her sneakers, secretly thankful she'd worn them instead of her usual boots. Her jeans joined the rest of their clothes somewhere on the floor. She expected him to take off her panties next, but instead he yanked her to the edge of the table and kneeled between her spread legs. Emma raised herself up on her forearms, feeling the flood of heat between her legs once she realized what he was about to do.

Killian's tongue flicked out against her sodden crotch, his eyes closing as he inhaled her scent. His fingers danced along her inner thigh, slowly creeping closer to her most sensitive flesh. Finally, he pushed the soaked fabric aside, using his hook to hold it in place. She felt his warm tongue run along her slit and she threw her head back at the heady sensation. It was almost more than she could take and he was barely touching her. She moaned loudly as he nipped at her folds with his tongue and teeth. He worked her expertly and she tried not to think about all the other women he had done this to. But her body refused to listen; instinctively she grabbed his hair, tugging on it sharply as if to remind him just who he was with. His eyes sought hers; he winked at her as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking. Without warning, he slid his tongue inside her and Emma cried out. Then she felt the cold steel of his hook slide over her clit; the contrast of the cold metal against her hot sensitive flesh was too much. Emma screamed as her orgasm washed over her; her back arching painfully.

She was still reeling from the aftershocks when Killian stood in front of her, jeans around his knees and said in a low voice, “I would have you, Emma Swan.”

Emma could only nod as she ran her eyes over his mostly naked form, his size barely registering before he kissed her fiercely. He nipped at her bottom lip, demanding entrance which she gladly gave. Emma slipped her hand between their sweat covered bodies and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He groaned into her mouth as she ran her thumb over the velvety head, spreading precum over it.

She guided him to her entrance, spreading her legs further to accommodate him. She was brought up short when he pulled away to stare into her eyes, as he pushed into her welcoming heat. He ran his fingers lovingly over her cheek and for the first time Emma realized that this wasn't just simple attraction for him. He truly cared about her; she could see it in his crystal blue eyes. Her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but he took pity on her and kissed her. He began to shallowly thrust into her, but it wasn't enough. Her body demanded more, anything to distract her from what she was feeling. She wrapped her legs around him again, trying to force him deeper. He acquiesced, taking her harder, deeper. He pulled her hair away from her neck with his hook and rained kisses along her neck and collarbone, his scruff burning across her flesh. She hung onto him for dear life as she felt her walls tighten around him; she was close to another orgasm. Killian slipped his hand between them and flicked her clit with his index finger. Emma felt her mouth open in a silent scream as she came. Two hard thrusts later Killian spilled his seed into her, crying out her name.

Emma collapsed back onto the table, utterly spent. She whimpered a little when she felt him slip out of her; she was not ready for him to be gone just yet. Briefly, Killian laid his head on her chest, trying to catch his breath. A cool breeze blew down into the cabin from above causing them both to shiver. Reluctantly, Killian raised his head and kicked off his remaining clothes before closing the door. Then he carried a limp Emma over to the bed and settled them both onto it. It was a tight fit, but he managed it. Emma snuggled into him as he pulled the coverlet over them.

“I told you once that we'd be brilliant together, darling,” he whispered, not sure she was still awake.

Emma smiled at the memory. “I remember,” she said. It seemed like so long ago, like another life. Had it really only been a few weeks ago?

“Ready to admit that I was right?”

“Nope.”

“You're a stubborn lass.”

“It's one of my many qualities, deal with it.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, as he pulled her into another kiss. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally tackles the second half of the prompt, but the story isn't over. It also might be difficult for Rumbelle shippers, sorry about that. And when talking about Killian's hook, just remember my brain can be a strange place. ;)

When Killian woke up the next morning, Emma was staring at his hook, or rather the place where his hook usually was. He'd had just enough energy to remove it before they fell asleep. She didn't look disgusted or repulsed by it, just curious. A tough lass, indeed.

“It doesn't bite, you know,” he drawled, sleep slurring his words.

“I know.”

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to stare?”

Emma cocked an eyebrow in irritation. “If you must know, I was wondering how that stays on. Can't you take it off?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Why not?”

Sighing, Killian sat up. This was not how he imagined their morning after conversation going; trust Emma Swan to do the unexpected. “I used to...before. Not anymore.”

Emma sat up as well, not bothering to cover herself Killian noticed. “Before what?” she asked.

“A particularly nasty run in with that damnable pixie, Tinkerbell.”

Emma nearly snorted. “Tinkerbell? She's real?”

Killian smirked. “You just spent an immensely satisfying night with the infamous Captain Hook and you're asking if Tinkerbell is real?”

Emma blushed; it turned her skin a pleasing shade of pink. “You think an awful lot of yourself, don't you?” she retorted.

Killian leaned in and kissed her. He felt her hand twine in his hair as she deepened the kiss. Then, quite deliberately, he pulled away, grinning. “You were saying, love?”

“Shut up.” Emma sighed. “So Tinkerbell,” she continued. “What happened?”

“Well, I convinced her to steal something for me in Neverland. She had a bit of a soft spot for me, you see...”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Why am I _not_ surprised?” she muttered.

“Is that a note of jealousy I hear, lass?” When Emma wouldn't look at him, he tipped her chin up forcing her to look at him. “Let's not have that now. If you let me finish the story, you'll see.” Emma nodded and Killian continued, “Anyway, as I was saying, there were rumors of a piece of magic so powerful that it could tear a hole through the barrier between worlds. I knew that if it existed, I could use it to return to our home and finally take my revenge on Rumplestiltskin. But it was guarded by the pixies and no one but a pixie could get to it.”

“So you asked Tinkerbell to steal it for you. What did you promise her?” Emma asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.

“I promised to take her with me,” he said.

“And she believed you?”

“Aye, she didn't have your unique skills, love.”

“What happened next?”

Killian scowled. “It was a trap. Not just for me but for Tinkerbell. The magic was fake, contrived by that hellion Peter Pan to destroy me and my crew. The Hollow did not fare well that night. Tinkerbell assumed I had betrayed her and flung a curse at me as they hauled her away. It fused this,” he held up his left arm, “to my arm. See?” He pointed at the places where there were once leather straps. There were only small frayed pieces of leather left.

Emma remained silent for a long time. For the first time, her face was unreadable. He had no idea what she was thinking and it terrified him a little. He hadn't meant to expose his darkness to her in that way, but maybe it was better if she found out now. It was something she was going to have to be able to accept if this thing between them was going to work. 

“Would you ever do that to me?” she asked, finally, her voice barely a whisper.

He held her gaze, willing her to believe what he was about to say. “I would _never_ do that to you, Emma.”

“Good,” she said, the relief evident in her eyes. “Because you'd have bigger problems on your hands than your hook.”

“Noted, love.”

But the spell of the previous night was broken. Not long after, Emma got up to get dressed. Killian didn't try to stop her, realizing that Emma needed some time to fully process the abrupt change in their relationshipn. He watched her leave reluctantly, hoping that he hadn't ruined their chance before it had properly begun.

Killian spent the rest of the morning straightening the cabin and checking his stores. Those tasks completed, he brought his big project up onto the deck to work on it in the sunshine. While they were cleaning, Henry had found the old sail; it was torn in several places. Killian had been stitching it back together a little at a time; it was more difficult then when he had been a young boatswain's mate. He'd had two hands then. But he managed well enough.

Killian wasn't so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice he was being watched, however. When it became evident that his visitor wasn't going anywhere, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Very few people knew he was out here, after all. And Killian hadn't survived this long being less than vigilant.

Setting aside the sail, he crossed the gangplank to the dock. Killian made as if he was going to walk to the edge of the pier, then doubled back and thrust his fist over the piling across from his temporary home. He grabbed a fist full of dirty shirt and hauled his stalker to his feet. It was Smee.

“Well, well, well, what have we here, Mr. Smee?”

“C-c-c-captain!” Smee sputtered. “How did you get here? Since the curse was broken, I've been looking for you!”

Killian laughed mirthlessly. “A likely story. How long have you known I was here? The truth now, Smee.”

“Since the savior and her family brought you here,” he muttered.

“You tell anyone else about me?”

“No, Captain.” Smee fidgeted, clearly wanting to say something else. “If I may, Captain, how did you get here? How did you avoid the curse?”

Killian glared. “That is not your concern, Mr. Smee.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Are you the only member of my crew in this godsforsaken place?”

“I've seen a few of the others, Captain,” he said, twisting his horrible red hat between his nervous hands. “But what of the Dark One, Captain? I have seen him. Threatened me, he did.”

“Why?”

“He was looking for you.”

“Was he now?” Smee nodded. “That's interesting.”

“He's _horrible_ , Captain. Most of the town is afraid of him. Well, except the savior. She's stood up to him several times!”

Killian smiled. Yes, Emma wasn't one to be cowed by Rumplestiltskin. He was so amused by the idea of Emma standing up to that insufferable imp that he almost missed what Smee was saying.

“It's only a matter of time until he calls in his favor from her though. I don't know how she's going to get out of _that._ ”

Killian's smile faded. He rounded on Smee and caught the terrified man but the scruff of the neck, his hook hovering near his carotid. “ _What did you say?_ ” his face thunderous.

Smee was crying, he was so terrified. But Killian didn't care. Smee hiccuped and managed to squeak out, “She owes Rumplestiltskin a favor. I don't know what it is.”

“How do you know this?” Killian hissed.

“Acquiring information, precious objects is what I do, Captain.”

That was true; it's how Smee became part of Killian's crew in the first place. He'd found out about the magic bean he had acquired and lured Rumplestiltskin straight to it. The idea of Emma anywhere near that...thing made his skin crawl, especially if she owed him something. Better than most, Killian knew what happened when one attempted to strike a deal with Rumplestiltskin. Milah had tried and it got her killed. A vision of Emma lying there, heart squeezed into dust, filled his head. Raw, red rage bubbled up in him. No, he would not let this happen again. Because it's what would happen if he did nothing. It's what _always_ happened. Killian would not let what happened to Milah happen to Emma. He'd die first.

Killian tossed Smee aside, barely registering the man's cry of pain as he hit the dock. There was only one thought: Get to Rumplestiltskin. Promise or no promise, he had a Crocodile to skin.

 

Emma sat her desk trying to concentrate on her paperwork, but all she could think about was the story Killian had told her about Neverland and Tinkerbell. She knew she should be more disturbed by the story than she actually was. He had spoken rather matter of factly about using Tinkerbell's affection for him to his own advantage and abandoning her without a second thought. That wasn't even counting the devastation he no doubt had rained down on the pixie's Hollow. However, as she reminded herself for the hundredth time, that was Captain Hook, filled with rage and hellbent on vengeance. The question she had to answer was: were Captain Hook and Killian Jones the same man? Was he still capable of that? Could he just turn off being Captain Hook? He'd spent three hundred years as the vengeful pirate captain. Could the turn around really be that quick? She wanted to believe it, desperately.

Emma was jarred out of her thoughts when Henry came bounding into her office. “Henry, what are you doing here?”

He looked at her, confused.”It's our weekly lunch date, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I'd gotten distracted. Never a dull moment in Storybrooke,” she said, hoping that her anxiety about Killian didn't show.

“Are you sure you're OK?” Henry asked.

Damn it. Her kid was way too perceptive for his own good. “It's grown up stuff, Henry.”

“It's Killian, isn't it?”

Emma just nodded, knowing that Henry wouldn't give up until she opened up. He got that from her, she knew.

“You worried he'll leave, aren't you?” That currently was the least of her worries, but it would suffice. Emma nodded again. Henry sat in the chair across from her, taking a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “He'd fight for you, if you gave him the chance. Just like Grandma and Gramps do. Isn't that what they always say, that they'll find each other?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, kid, they do.” God, she loved that kid. She couldn't imagine her life without him in it, now. She thought about when he was dying from the sleeping curse; he'd been so desperate to get her to believe, that he willingly put himself in harm's way. She'd been so angry then. At Henry, at Regina and most importantly at herself. She'd been so stubborn to what was right in front of her that nearly lost him again. She'd even threatened Regina. Emma didn't like to think of herself as a vengeful person, but if Henry _had_ died could she honestly say that she would not have turned into Hook? Everyone has darkness in their soul, even someone as apparently good as Mary Margaret. Giving into it was easy; fighting it was hard. The moment she'd threatened Regina, that was Emma tapping into the dark corner of her own soul. Maybe that's why she was attracted to Killian in the first place. It gave her something to think about at least.

She and Henry finished their lunch, talking about school and how Regina was coming along with her magical rehab. Henry genuinely believed his mother could change. But how long would that last? She didn't want to see Henry get disappointed, if Regina failed. Emma didn't want to see her son get beaten down by life like she had been; it was why she'd given him up in the first place. She resolved to try and be a bit nicer to Regina in the future. She may never be able to fully forgive the damage that Regina had caused to her family, but she could try and support her for Henry's sake.

After sending Henry back to school, Emma decided to take a walk down Main Street to try and clear her head. She hadn't gotten far when she saw Belle coming out of the library, a stack of heavy books in hand.

“Hi, Belle,” Emma said. She still didn't know the brunette very well, other than being Gold's... girlfriend? Was that the right word? It was hard to imagine such a mundane word being applied to Gold.

“Hello, Emma,” Belle said, pleasantly. She tried to switch hands in an attempt to lock the door, but the books went everywhere instead. “Shoot,” Belle muttered.

“Here, let me help you with those. Awful lot of books for one person,” Emma observed, stacking them once more.

Belle looked down awkwardly. “A few of them are for Rumple,” she said slowly, clearly unsure as to how Emma would take this news.

“Is he looking for a way to turn us all into toads?” Emma asked, trying to keep her voice light. 

Belle smiled. “No, nothing like that. Look, I know no one believes it, but he _has_ changed. He promised me.”

“You'll have to forgive my skepticism,” Emma said.

Belle was about to retort when her face went white. “You!” she nearly screamed. “Stay away from me!”

Emma looked and saw who had caused Belle to freak out. It was a short disheveled man wearing a red knit cap. Emma had no idea who he was. “Woah, woah, what's going on here?”

“He helped my father try to rob me of my memories,” Belle informed her, books in hand as if to ward the man off.

“Is that true?” Emma asked, not that she doubted Belle's story. She remembered David telling her something about it after she and Mary Margaret had returned from the Enchanted Forest. She searched her memories trying to remember the man's name, but nothing came.

“I was only doing as I was told,” the man tried to explain. “I really had nothing against you, milady.”

Emma placed herself between the awkward little man and Belle, just in case. He was giving her a vibe she didn't like. There was a smug look about him, like he knew something important and delighted in keeping his secret. Why would he dare to approach Belle now with the Sheriff right there? It made no sense. Unless he wasn't here for Belle. Her eyes went back to the red cap and she froze.

“You're Smee,” she said. “You were part of Captain Hook's crew.”

“You're very quick, Sheriff,” Smee said, obviously delighted. “I can see why the Captain likes you.”

Emma's face hardened. “What do you know about Killian?” Something was terribly, terribly wrong. If something happened to Killian because she sent him out to the docks...Emma had to remind herself to stay calm. “Where is he, Smee?”

“I don't know for sure, Sheriff. He was very rough with me, you see. Could be due to certain...information he received.”

Emma advanced on Smee, backing him into the wall of the library. She pulled back her jacket to reveal her pistol, resting her hand on the butt for emphasis. “I'm going to ask you once and you're going to answer me. What did you tell him?”

Smee glanced from her eyes to her hand, nervous for the first time. “I...I...I told him where to find the Dark One.”

Emma felt the color drain out of her face, dread settling in her gut. She had kept that information from Killian for a reason. He had _promised_ her that he wouldn't go after Gold. He promised. She couldn't believe he would be so foolish. There was a voice in her head that whispered that this had been his plan all along: get in her good graces, then when she was most vulnerable use her feelings for him to get to Gold. _Just like Tinkerbell._ And she had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. Stupid, she was so _stupid_.

She vaguely heard Belle demanding to know what was going on, but Emma ignored her. Instead, she ran. Gold's shop was a couple of blocks away; it was the most likely place to start looking. She didn't know what she would do when she found him. Part of her was absolutely convinced he had betrayed her, but there was another part that believed (or wanted to believe) that all was not as it seemed. Her head and her heart warred as she ran.

When she got to Gold's shop, it was empty. But it looked there had definitely been a struggle. She went through the back of the shop and looked around. She felt numb. She saw the sun glinting off something metal on the ground; it was Killian's hook. She picked it up and slipped it in her pocket. It seemed to confirm her worst fears, although what those were exactly she wasn't sure. She _had_ to find him, if Gold hadn't killed him already. Her heart constricted painfully, but if he really had betrayed her by going after Gold in the first place....She shook her head. She had actually believed he cared about her. And Henry. And her parents.

There were storm clouds gathering over the old toll bridge, but the rest of the sky was clear. Gold's magic. That was the only explanation. Emma sprinted in that direction. As she approached, she drew her gun, but she was completely unprepared for what she found.

Killian was on his knees, his face contorted in pain. There was a large gash on his forehead; blood covered one side of his face. But he was alive. Gold loomed over him, his hand buried deep in Killian's chest. What could only be described as a magical field hovered over the spot where Killian's heart should be; Gold was taking obvious pleasure in having Killian at his mercy. Having witnessed Cora's magic, she had a terrible feeling about what would happened next.

Killian saw her, a horrified look in his eyes. “Emma,” he ground out. “Get out of here.”

Gold looked at her, a twisted smile contorting his face. “Come to save your pirate, dearie?”

Emma's attention flashed between Killian and Gold. She was paralyzed and desperately confused.

“Just get it over with, you coward. Kill me. But Emma's debt is gone; that's the deal.”

“What is going on?” Emma asked, her voice cracking with the strain and confusion.

“The good captain here is your knight in shining armor, my dear. His life in return for your debt.” Gold squeezed Killian's heart; he cried out in pain.

“What?” None of this made sense. Killian should be trying to avenge Milah, not her. He couldn't have known about her debt to Gold; she'd been very careful about who she told. So how did he find out?

“Very brave, the captain is. But he always was. Foolish, but brave. I suppose that's why Milah chose you over me,” Gold sneered, pulling Killian's heart out of his chest. It glowed red as the bastard held it in his hand.

Killian collapsed against the edge of the bridge. Emma screamed and ran for him. She didn't fully understand what was going on, but Killian didn't deserve this. Especially if, as she now suspected, he was actually trying to protect her. A vision of Graham flashed in her memory, was this what had happened to him as well? She cradled Killian's head in her lap, gun falling to the ground next to her; thankfully he was still alive.

“You shouldn't be here, lass,” he gasped.

“I'm exactly where I should be,” she argued.

“How touching,” Gold said, condescendingly. “My wife and now the savior, how _do_ you get these women to fall for you?”

“Milah was your _wife_?” Emma exclaimed.

“Why yes, dearie. My darling wife was stolen from me by your pirate. Taken from her home and our son. Shocking enough for you?”

“Milah left you of her own free will,” Killian flung back, voice full of hate. “And you _killed_ her for it.”

“ _What?”_

But it wasn't Emma who had spoken. It was Belle. Gold turned toward the voice, clearly horrified. He held Killian's heart in his hand and it was shaking violently. “Please, Belle,” Gold pleaded. “This isn't what it looks like.”

“Then _what_ , Rumplestiltskin, is it supposed to be? You're holding a heart in your hand,” Belle pointed out, tears streaming down her face. _“You promised me, Rumple. How could you?”_

Gold took a step toward the weeping woman, but Belle held up her hands. “Stay. Away. From. Me.”

“Belle!” Gold called after her, but he made no move to follow. Emma's heart went out to Belle, but there was nothing she could do. Gold had brought this on himself. Gold rounded on Emma and Killian. “This is _your_ fault, pirate,” Gold spat. “And now I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago.”

Killian screamed as Gold started to squeeze the glowing heart. Quicker than she thought possible, Emma picked up her gun and pointed it at Gold's head. “Give me his heart or I _will_ kill you.”

That brought Gold up short. “You're bluffing.”

“Am I?” she shot back. “Go ahead. Think you can crush his heart before a bullet pierces your brain? Are you that powerful?”

“Your mortal weapon can't kill me.”

“Magic works differently here,” Emma pointed out, her voice deadly calm. “You want to test your theory, be my guest.”

Gold stared at her for what felt like hours. Emma held out her hand, waiting for Gold to hand over Killian's heart. At length, Gold placed it in her hand. Emma lowered her gun a faction, cradling Killian's heart protectively against her chest. With one final look of disgust, Gold spun on his heel and was gone.

Emma sunk to her knees, shaking. The heartache, confusion and stress of the last hour had sapped her strength. Against her will, she burst into tears; the knowledge that she had nearly lost someone else she cared about threatening to overwhelm her. She didn't fight it when Killian wrapped her in his arms, holding her as she cried. She hated feeling weak, but she couldn't stop the tears.

Gradually, Emma pulled herself together. She raised her head, her eyes focusing on the hole in Killian's shirt. “Emma,” Killian said, softly. “Look at me, love.”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. She had no idea what to say. Relieved as she was that he was safe, she was still angry. And confused. She needed answers, but had no idea where to start. He looked at her with such awe and hope that suddenly she couldn't take it. Emma wrenched herself out of his arms and stood, his heart still clutched in her fist.

“What happened just now, Killian?!” she exclaimed, her anger spilling over. “You promised me you wouldn't go after him! You stood in my kitchen and said that I was more important than your revenge. Was that all a lie? Am I no better than Tinkerbell to you?”

“How could you even ask me that?” he shot back, getting to his feet. “You think I confronted Rumplestiltskin out of revenge? After everything I've said to you? Don't you know what you mean to me?”

“Smee said that he told you where to find Gold,” she said, determined not to let him sweet talk his way out of this. “Is that true?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that _mean_?”

“That blasted good for nothing discovered I was down at the docks. I caught him this morning. As I was interrogating him, he told me about your favor to that monster.”

“So you decided to take Gold out?”

“Oh, I was angry, make no mistake. Bloody furious. And yes, if I'd had the opportunity, I'd have killed him. You don't know him like I do, Emma. Owing Rumplestiltskin will do nothing more than get you killed. You saw him, bloody hell, you're holding the evidence in your hand! I _can't_ lose you like I lost Milah. I couldn't bear it. I'd let that bastard kill me first.”

“But why?” Emma asked, near tears again.

“Because I'm in love with you, you confounded woman.”

“You...what?”

“Not really the response I was hoping for, darling.”

Emma looked down at the heart in her hand. The idea that it could belong to her – that Killian loved her – went against everything she'd convinced herself of less than an hour before. But it was in her nature to assume the worst; it was how she'd coped her whole life. That instinct had only gotten stronger after what happened with Neal. The fact that Killian would sacrifice himself to save her – and it was true, she'd witnessed it with her own eyes – could only mean one thing. He really did love her. Just like Henry had said: Killian fought for her even when she hadn't asked him to. And she'd pointed a gun at Rumplestiltskin's head to get that heart back. Did that mean she loved him? In that moment, she had been every bit as serious as when she'd threatened Regina and she loved Henry more than her own life.

Oh god, she loved him. She'd gone and fallen in love with Killian Jones. What was she supposed to do now?

“Emma, love, say something,” Killian said, approaching her like a frightened animal.

Emma snapped back to the present. “I should probably give this back to you,” she said, holding up his heart.

“Can't give back what you've already stolen, lass,” Killian said, a hopeful smile on his face. “But of you mean actually putting it back in my chest, then don't let me stop you.”

Emma latched onto the practical task with alacrity; it was safer than dealing with her revelation. “Any idea how this works?”

“Can't say that I do, love.”

“I guess we'll just have to wing it then.”

Emma stepped closer to him, holding his heart near the hole in his shirt. It glowed brighter the closer it got to his skin. Emma positioned it approximately the place it should be, relying on her fuzzy high school biology lessons for reference. 

“Ready?” she asked, still not quite sure what to do.

Killian nodded and braced himself on her shoulder. Emma placed the heart next to his skin and pushed. It was the oddest sensation: she felt Killian's chest open just far enough to slip the heart in and then it closed. Killian gasped in shock; his left arm flying to his chest as if in pain. But it only lasted moments and then he was fine. Just to be sure though, Emma placed her ear on his chest and was greeted with the now familiar thump of his heart.

“All better?” she asked.

“Much,” he replied. Killian reached up and stroked her cheek. “Why would you think I'd betray you? Especially after last night?”

Emma closed her eyes; if ever there was a time for her to be honest, this was it. When she opened them, Killian was looking at her expectantly. “Remember when I told you that I loved someone once?”

Killian nodded. “I'm assuming this is the same bloke who betrayed you, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, I didn't tell you everything. That guy left me high and dry with stolen goods. I was almost eighteen. I spent eleven months in jail for something he did.” She paused. “And he left me pregnant.” 

“You mean he's...”

“Henry's father, yeah. Henry doesn't know; no one does.”

Killian's hand curled into a fist and his jaw clenched; he was plainly furious. Just seeing his reaction emphasized just how different Killian was from Neal. Her pirate would never do the same thing; she understood that now.

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” Killian said, pulling her into his arms.

But Neal was the last thing Emma wanted to talk about. Neal was in the past and Emma was determined to keep him there. There were still things about today that didn't make sense.

“Killian,” she said, pulling away from him slightly, “what happened when you confronted Gold?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“Smee eggs you on by telling you about my debt, right? Then he comes to me and says that he told you how to find Gold. It was like he knew _exactly_ what buttons to push. Why? I don't know him very well, but he doesn't strike me as the brightest bulb in the box.”

Killian's brow furrowed in thought. “What are you thinking, lass? That we were set up? Smee couldn't have done that by himself. Too cowardly.”

Emma was about to argue (she did not fail to notice that he totally avoided the question) when she heard her mother calling her name. “Emma!” Mary Margaret called, running toward the bridge, David and Henry hot on her heels. “Are you OK?” she asked anxiously, practically skidding to a stop.

“Yeah, yeah, we're both fine,” Emma said, hugging Henry.

“Red said something about Rumplestiltskin and Killian's heart?” David said. “What happened?”

“I'm beginning to suspect that we were set up,” Emma said angrily.

“Set up? By who? And why?” Mary Margaret asked.

“An enemy,” came Regina's voice. The former mayor stepped out from behind Mary Margaret and David. Emma automatically pushed Henry behind her, ignoring the boy's protests.

“Was it you?” Emma asked.

“Certainly not,” Regina said. “No, it would have to have been someone who has you, Rumplestiltskin and the good captain in common. Hello, Hook.”

Emma chose to ignore that Killian and Regina obviously knew each other; she had bigger problems right now. Killian looked at Regina with barely concealed loathing. “Still not seeing how it's not you,” Emma retorted.

“I didn't know that Hook was in Storybrooke until about twenty minutes ago,” Regina shot back. “Which is something you and I will have a talk about at a later date, Miss Swan.”

“Mom,” Henry interjected. Regina and Emma both shot Henry a look that clearly said, “not now.”

“Let's say it wasn't you,” Emma said, turning back to Regina. “Who else would have me, Killian and Gold as an enemy?”

“It's perfectly obvious,” Regina replied, the worry beginning to etch itself into her features. “My mother. Cora.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness. Writer's block can be a bitch. I want to have this story finished before the show comes back from hiatus. (Or mostly finished, lol). Wish me luck!

Emma picked her way carefully through the underbrush, the dry leaves and twigs crunching under her feet. It was her third patrol in as many days. Regina's pronouncement of Cora's apparent arrival effectively ruined any chance she'd had to fully process what happened at the toll bridge. Each day since Emma drove herself to near exhaustion trying to figure where the witch was hiding. Only a select few were told about this new threat to their town: Red, Granny and the dwarves in addition to those who had been present on the bridge. Emma agreed with her parents, that it would cause another panic if the town at large knew. It made searching difficult, because while Storybrooke itself was fairly small, the surrounding woodland covered a much larger area. And Emma had a suspicion that Cora would not be subject to the same restrictions that the rest of Storybrooke's inhabitants were. That left her to search on her own, as one of the few who could cross the town line. Granted, if her theory was correct Killian could cross the line as well, but there were two big reasons why Emma wouldn't agree to it. First, what if she was wrong? Then Killian would lose his memories and that was unacceptable. Second, she was afraid to be alone with him. He'd declared himself on the bridge. He was in love with her. And while she was certain she loved him as well, she still hadn't said it. It was just one pressure too many, so Emma did what she always did with uncomfortable situations: she avoided them, or more specifically him. Again.

Emma pushed a low hanging branch out of her line of sight; the road was just ahead, thank goodness. She'd lost track of time; it was nearly sunset. The thick woods made it seem later than it actually was; the shadows were getting longer as she walked. In the distance, Emma heard a car engine, one that sounded familiar. When she got back to the Bug, she was unsurprised to see David pulling his truck in behind her. He shut off the engine and climbed out, a look of concern marring his features.

“Emma, there you are,” he said, relieved. “Did you turn your phone off? Snow's been trying to get a hold of you.”

Emma immediately went tense. “What is it? Is it Henry?”

“No, no, Henry's fine. She was just worried about you. I have too, to be honest. You're pushing yourself too hard.”

“I'm the Sheriff, David. And the only one around here not subject to the border spell. Who else is going to search for Her Evilness if not me?”

“I don't like the thought of you out here alone, Emma.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For heaven's sake, David! I am not a child. I got this.”

“What about Killian? He wasn't part of the curse; I bet he could cross the line with no problems. Cora is _powerful_ , Emma. You know that better than most. Do you really think you could take her on alone?”

“I have to. _I'm_ the Savior, remember? And I will _not_ allow that woman near my son.”

“And what about us? We're a family, Emma. We do this _together_. It's the only way. I had to abandon you once, I won't do it again. Do you understand?”

It was almost exactly what Mary Margaret had told her after she'd climbed back down the beanstalk. And like then, she felt slightly ashamed about how she'd acted. Clearly growing accustomed to relying on other people was something she had to work on. Emma nodded at her father and he pulled her into a hug.

As he released her, he said, “This isn't just about Cora, is it?”

Emma had a suspicion about where this conversation was headed, but she was too tired to argue. She shook her head.

“Killian?”

“Yeah.”

“He's been...different the last few days. Did something else happen on the bridge?”

Having a talk about men was the last thing Emma ever expected to have with her dad, but now that the subject had been broached, she found that she needed to talk about it. She'd been bottling it up for the last couple of days, never good. She leaned heavily against the Bug and nodded. “He said that he's in love with me.”

To Emma's surprise, David smiled. “About time.”

“What? You knew?”

“It's been written all over his face for weeks.”

“Thanks for keeping me in the loop,” Emma said, sarcastically.

“Love can't be forced, Emma. You have to discover it for yourself. I was in denial about Snow for a long time too.” He paused. “Do you love him?”

And that was the sixty four million dollar question. Did she love him? Yes. Was being in love with him a good thing? She just wasn't sure. “You know why he went after Gold, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He was going there to kill Gold; he told me so himself. There's darkness in him, David. I...I don't know if I can handle that. Or even if I should. If it were just me...hell, I've done things that I'm not proud of. But it's not just me anymore. What about Henry?”

“Emma, listen to me. Loving Killian does not make you a bad person. It makes you _human_. Abandoning my deal with King George and going after your mother in the name of true love was the worst thing I've ever done. It was thoughtless and selfish. It started a war – a war that for all intents and purposes is still going on – and caused untold suffering and death. There have been days when I wonder if it was worth it, days when the guilt gets to me. But I don't regret it. True love is rare and when you find it, it must be fought for. Killian fought for you, to keep you safe. Are you willing to do the same for him?”

Emma swallowed. She had never thought of her parents' story that way before. Objectively speaking, David was right. Their love set off a chain reaction that led to a lot of bad things happening. And yet she couldn't fault them for it. “What do you do on those days?” she asked.

“I look at you or Snow or Henry. Seeing my family together reminds me that I made the right choice. If there are gods out there who want to judge me harshly for it? I have my sword,” he said, a grim smile on his face.

Emma knew what she had to do. “Thanks, David.” She hugged him again and said, “Would you mind keeping Henry tonight? There's something I have to do.”

“Sure, Emma. You know Henry's welcome anytime.”

“Try to keep the mock swordfighting to a minimum?” she teased.

“You got it.”

Emma got in her Bug and drove back toward town. David followed her, careful to turn around before the town line. Emma shuddered at the thought of her mother's reaction if something happened to him. She needed to make one stop before going home, though. Emma pulled into the sheriff's station, her heart sinking when she saw Regina's car in the parking lot. The former mayor was the absolute last person she wanted to deal with at the moment.

Steeling herself, Emma headed for her office. Sure enough, Regina was sitting in one of the chairs across from her desk.

“You're been avoiding me, Miss Swan.”

“Actually, I've been busy. Searching for the Mother of the Year. Ring a bell?”

“And have you? Found her?”

Emma fought the urge for sarcasm. She wanted Regina out of her hair as quickly as possible. “No, I haven't. What do you want, Regina?”

“Hook. I want him away from Henry.”

The idea of the Evil Queen commanding Emma to keep Captain Hook away from her son seemed laughable. It was another one of the those times she was reminded of just how screwy her life was.

“Henry likes Killian, Regina. I don't think I could keep them apart if I tried.”

“Try harder,” Regina shot back.

“Why does the idea of Killian spending time with Henry bother you so much?”

“He's my son, Miss Swan. I want what's best for him and that does not include Hook.”

“He's my son, too. Whatever history there is between you and Killian is in the past. He's not that man anymore.”

Regina smirked. “Hook's got you wrapped around his...well, hook. Doesn't he? It's only a matter of time until you get burned, Miss Swan. Ruin your own life if you must, but I do not want Henry there to be caught in the crossfire.” She got up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked.

“To get my son.”

Emma was in front of the former mayor in a heartbeat. “No.”

Regina grimaced. “Out of my way, Miss Swan.”

“No.”

Regina's face contorted with anger. Emma noticed her hands twitch nervously. “I would advise you to let me pass.”

“Or you'll what? Turn me into a goat? Or would you do to me what you did to Graham?” Emma wasn't sure where that last bit came from. But the missing pieces surrounding Graham's death started falling into place since the incident at the bridge. Henry had accused Regina of having something to do with Graham's death, but she had dismissed it. Emma had a sudden desire to know the truth.

The color drained out of Regina'a face; her shoulders slumped in defeat. The subtle crackle of power that had been gathering in her palms dissipated as well.

“Oh my god. It _is_ true. You killed him.” It wasn't a question.

Regina nodded. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Emma shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would devastate Henry. Because you're trying to change and I want to give you that chance. Everyone deserves a second chance, even the Evil Queen.”

Regina' expression was unreadable. Emma knew there was a chance that Regina's anger and resentment could flare up at any moment, but she stood her ground. For better or worse, the woman was someone her son loved and if there was anything Emma had learned recently it was that you fought for the people in your life.

“Thank you, Emma.”

“You're welcome.” This time Emma didn't try to stop Regina from leaving. Just before the Queen exited the station, Emma called out to her.

“Yes, Miss Swan?”

“Are you sorry?” She didn't have to elaborate.

“Honestly? I don't know yet.” With that, Regina was gone.

Emma gathered the objects she'd come to the station for, hoping that David wouldn't mind that she was borrowing them. Under the circumstances, she was pretty sure she'd be forgiven. Then she got in her car and drove the rest of the way home. She had a pirate to see.

  

Killian was hunched over the large map, spread out over the dining room table. On it, he carefully examined the Storybrooke coastline searching for any likely coves where Cora might be hiding. He had not taken Emma's edict on staying behind well; he'd been furious at first. The idea of Emma facing Cora alone was unacceptable. They had a terrible row about it almost as soon as he moved what few possessions he had back into Emma's apartment. Emma tried to claim that she was merely worried about keeping his memories intact from the dreaded town line, but Killian could tell there was more to it. It was almost as if she was suddenly afraid of him. The thought of his Emma being afraid of him made him sick.

Nothing had gone as he'd expected. Just as it appeared he was finally breaking down Emma's walls, something else came along to drive her away. Would it always be this way? Had his demons doomed them already? Killian refused to believe that. He'd seen the look in her eyes as she'd stared down Rumplestiltskin. She loved him as much as he loved her, of that he was certain. And he wasn't giving her up without a fight, even if that fight was with her own scarred heart.

Killian heard the door open behind him. He turned to look, expecting Henry. But it was Emma. She looked tired; her clothes were spotted with dirt. She'd been searching the woods again; he could tell. But the worried look she's carried for the last few days was gone. This evening she looked hopeful and determined.

“Hi, Killian.”

“Evening, love. All is well, I hope?”

“You mean have I found Cora? Not yet. Though not for lack of trying,” she replied, gesturing to her dirty clothing. “When I do, I am _so_ going to kick her ass.”

Killian smiled. There was his Emma. “I have no doubt of that, darling. Just so long as you let me get in a few licks as well.”

“Yeah, about that. I'm sorry about not letting you help; it wasn't fair. In my defense, I really am worried about that border spell. The whole magic thing is something I'm still getting used to and it doesn't work the same way here. I see the way Mary Margaret or David get when either of them go near that line. If we were wrong and anything happened to you...”

Killian reached out and cupped her cheek. “It will take a lot more than that to keep me from you, love.”

“I know,” Emma said, smiling.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she replied. It looked like she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind. “I have something that belongs to you.”

Emma handed him a long thin package. Killian smiled as he took it, holding it under his arm and tearing at the brown paper. “My sword. I was wondering where you had hidden it.”

“It was at the station. I figured if you were going to help, you should have it back.”

Killian quirked a eyebrow at her. “There are two swords here, love.”

Emma blushed. “The other one is for me. It's my dad's.”

“You stole your father's sword?”

“ _Borrowed,”_ she corrected. “I was hoping you'd help me learn to use it better. Somehow, I don't think my gun is going to do a hell of a lot of good against Cora.”

“It worked against Rumplestiltskin,” Killian observed.

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“He had your _heart,_ Killian. In his hand. And that belongs to me.”

Killian felt the smile spread across his face. He took her hand and held it tight. “It truly does, lass.”

“And mine belongs to you,” she replied, the barest hint of fear in her eyes.

Killian knew what a huge admission that was for her. It hadn't escaped his notice that she hadn't replied in kind when he blurted his feelings on the bridge. At the time it had hurt. But now...it was all worth it. The swords clattered to the floor as he captured her lips with his own.

She smiled against his lips as he kissed her. He pulled away, surprised to see tears. He gently brushed them away with his thumb. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too, Killian.”

Killian closed his eyes. “You have no idea how good that sounds, love.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I bet I do. I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you sooner.”

Killian wrapped his left arm around her waist and brushed her hair back with his good hand. “Don't be sorry for that, Emma. You've already given me so much more than I deserve; I would never begrudge you whatever you needed. Ever.”

“You're a good man at heart, Killian Jones. You...just like shiny stuff.”

Killian laughed. “And now I'm holding the shiniest bauble of all.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “That is the lamest line I have ever heard.”

“And yet you're still here in my arms.”

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

“So demanding, love.”

“Get used to it, buddy.”

Killian silenced her with a kiss. He moaned into her mouth when Emma deepened the kiss. He felt her fingers playing with the hair at his nape, tugging on it gently. His own fingers tightened her blonde tresses, trying to bring her even closer. So much had happened since that night on the boat; Killian wasn't sure he'd ever have Emma that way again. And yet here she was in his arms, kissing him like her life depended on it and she loved him. Eventually, he broke the kiss, picked Emma up and carried her to what was now _their_ bedroom.

As he set her down next to the bed, Emma said, “Really? I couldn't walk ten feet?”

“I _am_ a pirate, love,” he replied, kissing her once more.

Emma's retort got swallowed in his kiss. That fire and combativeness was one of the things he loved best about her, but he was determined to focus it in an infinitely more pleasurable direction. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders to the floor. His hook got caught in one of Emma's belt loops; he took advantage of it and tugged her hips closer. Her hands flew to his upper arms as she tried to steady herself as she stumbled. Emma gasped for breath when Killian pulled away and began peppering her jawline with kisses.

“Killian,” she whispered, all trace of sarcasm gone. He immediately sensed the change in her mood.

“I know,” he whispered. This was important: their first time together with the words between them. There would be no going back after this. He stared into her stormy blue-green eyes for long seconds, searching for any sign of reluctance or hesitation but there was none. All he saw was her love for him, so powerful that it nearly floored him.

Emma leaned in and kissed him. Of their own accord, Killian's lips parted and she slipped her tongue into his mouth, restoking the fire that nearly been doused in the importance of the moment. She kissed him languidly, her arms going around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. Killian reached up under her thin sweater, skimming her bare skin. She shivered at his touch. When he reached her silk encased breast, her nipple was already taut through the fabric. Killian ran his thumb over it and Emma groaned.

“Too many clothes,” she muttered, almost to herself.

She disentangled herself from his arms and reached down, pulling the sweater over her head. A second later, her bra joined it on the floor. Killian didn't waste any time; Emma barely had a chance to lower her arms, when Killian wrapped his mouth around one of her nipples and sucked.

“Oh god,” Emma gasped, desperately trying to remain upright under Killian's onslaught. She grabbed the back of his shirt, the fabric bunching in her fingers. The angle was awkward, but Killian was past caring. He teased her with his lips and teeth, enjoying the mewls that tumbled from her lips. He tried switching his attentions, but Emma wrenched his head up.

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

Killian grinned at her lecherously, all too eager to comply and thoroughly loving her air of authority. She helped him tug the shirt over his head, then she reached for his pants. The unfamiliar loops and fastenings that it had taken him days to learn to do unassisted Emma had undone in mere seconds. He gasped as she slipped her hand inside and ran her still slightly chilled fingers the length of his hardening shaft. The gasp shifted to a groan as Emma tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, while continuing to stroke him.

“It's not polite to tease a man, love,” he ground out.

Emma just smirked. To Killian's surprise, she knelt in front of him, pushing his pants down over his hips to pool at his feet. Emma placed an open mouthed kiss on his lower stomach, as her hand found its way back to his shaft. He closed his eyes against the sight of his blond princess at his feet, certain that he was dreaming. He opened them when he felt Emma's warm tongue on him. Killian placed his hand lovingly in her hair, trying to tell her without words that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. But his lass was stubborn; without hesitation, she took him into her mouth. She sucked him, gently at first, but with increasing pressure. Killian's knees threatened to buckle under the exquisite feeling of her warm, wet mouth engulfing him. He wrapped his hook around the nearby bedpost to steady himself. As Emma's head bobbed, Killian could feel his release start to build. If Emma kept her ministrations going much longer, he'd lose control far earlier than he wanted.

Killian tugged on Emma's hair. “Emma,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. When she didn't respond, he tugged harder. That got her attention and reluctantly, she released him. He immediately felt the loss, but he loved the annoyed look on her face. She was disappointed he'd interrupted her fun. Well, he just have to find a way to make it up to her.

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her. He nipped her lower lip, demanding entrance. She acquiesced immediately as he pulled her closer, the bare skin of their chests touching. He could feel the staccato rhythm of her heart against his chest; the heart that belonged to him. He broke the kiss only when air became a necessity, moving his lips down her neck and along her collarbone. Emma reached down to undo her own pants, but Killian batted her hand away. Instead, he teased her mound with the heel of his hand, eliciting a groan from her. She pushed back, desperate for more friction.

She muttered something incoherent as she clutched him for support. He finally unbuttoned her pants and allowed her to push them down and off along with her boots. Once she was naked, she climbed onto the bed, beckoning him to follow. As if he could do anything else. She kissed him fiercely, pushing him onto his back. He let her straddle his waist, by this time nearly as impatient as she. Emma guided him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him. The scorching heat of her nearly drove him mad and she hadn't even started moving yet. But nothing could compare to the look of love in her eyes; it was something he wasn't sure he'd ever see again or even deserved. But it was _his_. Emma stroked his cheek lovingly, then started to move. They both got lost in the sensations as she moved up and down above him. But it wasn't enough. Killian looked down at where they were joined, brushing his fingers over her sensitive clit. Emma yelped, then ground her hips into his hand. He could feel her muscles begin to tighten around him and he bucked his hips up to meet her. Emma cried out as her orgasm hit, clutching at the headboard for support as she rode it out.

Before Emma could recover, Killian rolled them over, careful of his hook. He pushed back into her; he could feel the aftershocks around his shaft. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist forcing him to take her even deeper. He groaned at the feel of her around him, squeezing him tightly with every stroke. He was close, so close. Killian lowered his head, touching his forehead to Emma's. Emma pushed her fingers in his hair, bringing her lips to his ear. “Love you.” Hearing those words sent him over the edge. He came hard, muttering her name over and over like a prayer.

When he recovered his senses, Killian rolled off her. He unscrewed his hook and set it on the nightstand. Emma pulled up the blanket and snuggled into his side. Killian brushed her matted hair away from her forehead and kissed it. “I love you, Emma,” he said, quietly. But she was already asleep, which was no wonder considering the stress she was under. But that, he promised himself, would change. Emma would never face the world alone again. Not while he drew breath.


	8. Chapter 8

For the first time in four days, Emma did not wake up with a feeling of dread. Cora was still out there – ready to cause untold havoc in her life – but she wasn't afraid. And the reason for that was pressed warmly against her back, his left arm wrapped securely around her waist. Emma ran her hand down Killian's forearm, running her hand over the contraption that normally held his hook. It's weight didn't bother her in the slightest. As Killian had told her, it was a part of him, one that made him who he was. And she loved him just as he was, hook and all.

She loved him. It was such a relief to finally be able to acknowledge it, not only to herself but to him. No matter how many times she'd tried to push him away, Killian stayed right there. It had been exactly what she'd needed and she hadn't even known it. And she'd almost lost him. That night at the bridge haunted her dreams, only sometimes it was Cora who had her hand in Killian's chest and not Gold. Unconsciously, she shivered. No, Emma wasn't letting Cora near anyone she cared about. Not Henry, Killian, or her parents.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Killian stirring next to her. She felt him press a kiss to her bare shoulder; she smiled. “Morning, love,” came Killian's groggy voice from behind her.

She twisted in his arms, facing him. “Morning.”

“I half expected you to be gone when I woke up.”

“I thought you were gonna help me search today?” she replied, half teasing.

“So I didn't hallucinate last night then?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “We're both naked and in my bed. I'm pretty sure you didn't.”

“ _Our_ bed, love,” Killian corrected. “And speaking of naked...” he trailed off, leaning in for a kiss.

Emma sighed into his kiss. She let it go on for while, enjoying the feel of him at her side. But when Killian tried to pull her on top of him, she put a warning hand on his chest. “We can't, Killian,” she gasped. “Things...to...do.”

“Sod that. It can wait.”

“Killian,” she began, intent on arguing. Then she felt his fingers slide into her folds. “Ooooh.” All thought of protest flew from her head; she needed him to keep touching her. The next thing Emma knew she was on her back with Killian settling himself between her legs. Emma pushed her hips forward, meeting him as he entered her. She groaned when he bottomed out; the length of him stretching her in the best way. He kissed her as he began to thrust. Emma let him set the pace as all coherent thoughts had flown from her head. It wasn't long before she was close. Killian's right hand found her left and held it tightly. She kissed him fiercely as she started spasming around him. Killian followed her over the edge moments later.

They lay there for long moments, trying to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together. “That was not how I meant to start the day,” Emma commented when her ability to speak returned to her.

Killian chuckled deep in his throat. “But it's how we'll be starting the day from now on if I have anything to say about it.”

“Is it now?”

“Aye.”

“We'll see about that, mister,” Emma snarked, as she made to get out of the bed. She desperately needed a shower.

“Captain!” Killian called.

Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a towel before entering the bathroom. Then she grinned to herself and poked her head out of the door. “Coming, Captain?”

Killian grinned, throwing the covers off and making a dash for the bathroom.

 

An hour (and a lot of wasted hot water) later, they were in the kitchen having breakfast. Since Emma wasn't much of a cook, it was just cereal but neither of them minded. It just felt so damn _normal_ that Emma was kicking herself for the hundredth time for waiting so long to accept what Killian could be in her life. Currently, she was trying not to laugh as she watched him fighting with the coffee maker. She knew he preferred tea, so it could only be for her. She rearranged her features into what she hoped was a neutral expression when he triumphantly brought her her mug.

“I saw that, lass,” he said, smirking.

“Saw what?” she asked, innocently. She accepted the mug gratefully; she needed the caffeine.

“A pirate has a long memory, love. You'd do well to remember that.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Eat. I want to see Henry off to school before we head out.”

That, as it happened, wasn't to be in the cards. Emma was shrugging into her blue leather jacket when there was a knock on the door. When she opened it, she was stunned to see a dirty and clearly distraught Marco.

“Marco, what is it? What happened?”

“Its...it's...my boy,” he said, still gasping for breath. Emma could see the tears staining the old man's cheeks.

“August?” she asked, then kicked herself. “Sorry...Pinocchio. You found him? Where is he?”

The last time Emma saw August he turned back into an inanimate puppet, all wood. In everything that had happened since, she'd completely forgotten him. If she'd have believed in the curse sooner, he might not have ended up like that.

“Out in the woods,” Marco was saying. “He's a...he's a...”

“Puppet again,” Emma finished for him. “I know.”

“You do?” Marco asked, confused.

“Yeah, it's a...long story. Listen, Marco, you say he's out in the woods? Where exactly?”

“It's out past the town line. I'd have gone for him myself, but...”

“You'd forget who he was before you got to him.”

“Yes. Please, can you go?”

“Of course.” She guided the old man into the apartment, over to the table where Killian's maps were still spread. “Do you think you can show me where you saw him?” she asked, gently.

Marco examined the map closely. Finally, he pointed. “There.” Sure enough, it was past the line. Emma looked over at Killian, who had been observing quietly. He nodded at her silent question.

“OK, Marco. Here's what I need you to do. Go to the Sheriff's station. I'll have David meet you there. We'll go find Pinocchio and bring him back into town. Can you do that?”

Marco nodded. “Great. Killian?”

“Ready when you are, love.”

As they drove out to the place that Marco had indicated, Emma called David and explained the situation. He promised to see Henry safely to school, then meet the distraught Marco at the Sheriff's station. Emma hung up and took another nervous glance at her mirror.

“It's going to be fine, lass,” Killian said, reading her thoughts.

“You don't know that.”

“So this August bloke. Who is he?”

Emma was thankful for the change of subject. “Pinocchio.” When Killian still looked confused, she continued. “Puppet that got turned into a real boy? You've never heard the story?”

“Something to do with a whale?” Emma nodded. “Aye, I think Henry showed me that moving picture. Nose grew when he lied?”

“That would be the one. Too bad that doesn't work in real life,” Emma said, a half-hearted attempt at humor.

“But you're already good at spotting liars, darling,” Killian observed. “That's how we met, remember?”

Emma flashed him a smile, remembering that day in the Enchanted Forest. “Yeah, well, when August asked me to believe him about the curse, my lie detector was broken.” She proceeded to tell him all about how she and Pinocchio had come through the wardrobe and how he had abandoned her all those years ago. Then how August had looked the last time she saw him and how guilty she still felt about it.

“That is _not_ your fault, Emma,” Killian said, sternly. “Sounds to me like this August bloke had it coming.”

“Killian, it's not that simple,” she began. But she never got to finish her thought. They were approaching the town line. Emma brought the Bug to a stop short of the line, still worried. What if this didn't work? 

Killian clearly had no qualms though, as he got out of the Bug and approached the line. He looked back at Emma and said, “Cheers, love.” Then he stepped over the line.

Emma stood next to the Bug, frozen. She waited for something to happen, anything to happen. But nothing did. Killian turned around and smiled at her. “See, lass? Right as rain.”

“You know who I am?”

“You, my love, are Emma Swan.”

Emma exhaled in relief. One less thing for her to worry about. Killian rejoined her and together they headed out into the woods. The place Marco had indicated on the map was roughly northeast of where she had parked the Bug. They'd gone about a hundred feet past the line when Emma spotted something. It was August's box, the one that he carried with him everywhere. She picked it up; it was heavier than she thought it would be. Sure enough, she found his typewriter inside.

“He has to be here somewhere,” she said. “August!” Although what good calling out to an inanimate puppet would do she had no idea. “August!”

“Over here, Emma.”

Emma looked in the direction Killian indicated. On the ground was August. He was still wooden, apparently frozen, but she'd recognize those clothes anywhere. There was a tear in his shirt just below where his ribcage would have been; splinters fell out into her hand when she probed.

“Ow,” said a weak voice. Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked at August's face and his wooden eyelids fluttered, then opened revealing crystal blue eyes.

“Bloody hell,” Killian said softly.

“August?” Emma asked.

“Hi,” August replied, weakly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Emma saw Killian bristle out of the corner of her eye. “What happened to you, August? Last time I saw you...”

“I turned into this.”

“Yeah. What happened?” she asked again.

“I don't know exactly. All I know is that one minute I'm frozen, trapped in my wooden body, and the next I could move. Not well, mind you. But it's better than nothing, I guess.”

“How?”

“No idea.”

Then Emma had a thought. “The curse. When I broke the curse, it must have reanimated you. But why are you still a puppet?”

“The Blue Fairy said I would only remain a real boy for as long as I was good. I don't know if you noticed, Emma, but I've been very bad lately.”

Emma heard Killian's faint growl; he clearly was not a fan of August. Time to get August back to town anyway; Marco would be worried sick. “Listen, August, Killian and I are going to take you back to town. We'll talk more then, OK? If you're up to it, of course.”

“You're the boss, Emma.” He paused. “Wait, Killian? As in Killian Jones? As in Captain Hook?”

“What of it, mate?” Killian asked with barely concealed hostility.

“Nothing. Just...interesting is all.”

Killian was about to say something else when Emma asked him to help carry August back to the Bug. Together, they hoisted August into a standing position and supported his weight across their shoulders. It took a while – due to August being made of wood and all – but they made it back to the car in one piece. Emma helped August into the back seat and sent Killian back for August's box. He returned soon after, the box swinging from his hook. Emma kissed him on the cheek in gratitude, hoping that it would mollify him until they got back to town. He squeezed her hand affectionately before getting back in the car.

Twenty minutes later, Emma pulled into the sheriff's station. After getting August out of the car, the three of them hobbled into the station. Mary Margaret saw them first.

“Emma! You found him, thank goodness!”

At her mother's exclamation, Marco came running. “My boy! Pinocchio!” Emma and Killian disentangled themselves and allowed father and son their reunion in peace.

“Where was he?” David asked. “And what happened to him?”

Emma proceeded to tell what little she knew. As to how August wound up in the woods and got wounded she had no clue. What she was unprepared for was her father's anger. Mary Margaret too.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Are you saying that the wardrobe took two through to this world?”

“Um, yeah?”

David and Mary Margaret exchanged a look. “We were told it would only take one,” David said, angrier than Emma had ever seen him.

“By whom?”

But no one answered her question. David was up in a flash and going after Marco and August, who were sitting at one of the desks outside her office.

“Why did you lie?” David shouted, grabbing the front of Marco's shirt and hoisting him up.

“Please, your highness,” Marco stuttered. “I had to. My boy.”

“And what about Emma?” David shot back, disgusted. “She was left _alone_ by your boy. He left her to face an unknown world _alone_. We should have been with her! It should have been Snow and I going through that portal!”

“David, that's enough,” Emma said. “Let him go.”

David released Marco, turning away from the old man. But then he spun on his heel and punched Marco in the face.

“Charming!” Mary Margaret shouted.

Emma and her mother pulled David back from Marco before he could do any more damage. Marco's nose was bleeding. David wrestled out of their grip, shaking his hand in pain. “I'm fine now,” he muttered.

Emma eyed him warily for a few seconds before going to help Marco with his bloody nose. Once the blood flow was staunched, she went back to her father.

“Nice right cross,” she said. “Feel better now?”

“Emma, he's the reason you grew up alone. Your mother and I...we should have been with you. We could have been a family, watched you grow up. How am I supposed to let that stand?”

Emma looked to Killian for help, but he just shrugged. “If your father hadn't, I would have, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes. This was getting them nowhere. “What's done is done. Regina is the one who cast the curse, not Gepetto. Can you really blame him for wanting to protect his son? Isn't that what you did for me?”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret began, but Emma ignored her.

“You are OK?” Emma asked David. “I don't want to have to lock you up, but I will if I have to.”

David sighed. “No, you're right. Don't worry, I'll be fine.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?”

“And what's that, lass?” Killian asked.

“Um, why August was out in the woods and what took a piece out of him?”

“I think I can help with that,” August said, leaning heavily in the doorway.

Emma helped him into a chair; he still looked terrible. Well, honestly, it was hard to tell since August was made of wood. But if a puppet could look terrible, then August was the poster child for it. Seeing the flesh and blood man she'd known as a walking, talking puppet was more than a little freaky. After settling him in the chair, Emma moved back behind her desk to stand next to Killian, still perched in her chair. He stroked her lower back with his hook; she immediately felt better.

Emma saw August take note of the closeness between her and Killian, but she chose to ignore it. Her love life wasn't any of August's business anyway. She crossed her arms across her chest and said, “So what did happen to you, August? Why did you leave Granny's?”

“I had a message to send.”

“A message that required you to go the woods?”

“I had to send it by pigeon.”

“Um, okay.”

“Pigeons are excellent for carrying messages,” Mary Margaret interjected. “But who would you need to send a message to here?”

“It's not important,” August said, but Emma could tell he was lying. Whoever that message was for, it was obviously important. But August was clearly reluctant to say in front of such a large group. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian's fist clench; he'd seen it too and he did not look happy about it.

“That was weeks ago, August. Why were you still in the woods? And who attacked you?” Emma asked.

August looked down at the floor. “I was ashamed. After everything he'd done to protect me, I didn't want my father to see me like this. That I'd failed him. That I'd failed you,” he finished, looking directly at Emma.

“Too right you did,” Killian muttered.

“Killian!” Emma hissed.

“Well, it's true,” he shot back. “There sits a coward, sure as you breathe.”

“You have no idea how true that is,” August said.

Emma wanted to probe – there was obviously something that August wasn't telling her – but decided to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand. “August, who – or what – attacked you?”

“It was Cora. At least I think it was.”

Emma felt Killian's grip on her tighten as a shiver ran down her spine. The place where she'd found August was a stone's throw from where she'd been searching for Cora the day before.

“Are you sure? How would you even know Cora?” David asked.

“Henry's book. When I cleaned it up, I saw her in the story about you, your highness,” August replied, nodding at Mary Margaret.

“But why would Cora attack you?” Mary Margaret asked.

“I don't think she meant to.”

Killian scoffed. “I highly doubt that. Cora never does anything without a reason. She probably hoped that blast would either blow you to smithereens or break down the magic that makes you alive.”

“Either way she failed,” Emma said, coolly. “I think it's time we let August rest. We should probably make another pass out where we found him,” she said to Killian. “I doubt she'd linger, but it can't hurt.”

“What can we do?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma thought for a minute. “Get Ruby. See if you can't track down Smee. If we can't find Cora, we should have an easier time finding her accomplice.”

“Aye, I'd like a crack at the coward,” Killian said, darkly.

Emma ignored him. “We'll pick Henry up from school later. Call if you find anything, OK?”

It was an uneventful rest of the day. Neither Cora or Smee were anywhere to be found. The Smee thing really bothered her. Storybrooke wasn't that big and it wasn't like the unkempt guy could leave. When Emma picked Henry up from school, she broke the news about August as gently as she could. Henry was worried for his friend. When he asked Emma if he could see him, Emma demurred. She managed to convince Henry to wait, that August needed time to recover. She promised they'd visit in a few days. That night, Emma settled into a fitful sleep, Killian at her side.

 

Killian couldn't sleep, not with Emma tossing and turning beside him. It was such a far cry from the night before, when they both slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, secure in the knowledge that were finally together and in love. He wanted nothing more than to make those who would steal away their peace pay. He wanted it _done_.

Emma tossed again, out of his grasp, her head thrashing. “Henry!” she cried out.

Killian sat up and shook Emma's shoulder, trying to wake her from what was clearly a nightmare. “Emma, love,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

Emma continued to thrash, crying out Killian's name as well. “Emma,” he repeated, more urgently.

That did the trick. Emma woke up, gasping for air, looking around wildly. When she saw Killian, she latched onto him in relief. “Oh my god,” she said, her voice shaking. “You're alive." 

“It was just a nightmare, darling. I'm right here.”

“Henry?”

“Upstairs, sound asleep.”

“Are you sure?” She still sounded terrified.

“Aye. But we can go check if it makes you feel better.”

Emma looked up at him. “No, I trust you.”

Killian kissed the top of her head and held her close. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.

“No. I just want to forget it.” She snuggled deeper into his chest. “I hate feeling this way,” she said softly.

“It's alright to be afraid, Emma. Only a fool isn't afraid.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Bloody terrified,” he said, honestly. “If anything happened to you or Henry...I don't even want to think about it. But we can't let that fear rule us. If we do that, Cora's already won.”

“Henry says that good always wins.”

“Then we will do our best to prove the lad right, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, Killian.”

“And I you, Emma. Sleep now. I've got you.” He started humming a lullaby that his mother sang to him when he was a very small child. He was surprised he still remembered it. Gradually, he felt Emma relax in his arms. Her breathing evened out; she was finally asleep. Eventually, Killian fell asleep too.

Killian woke up the next morning to an empty bed. He looked around for Emma, but she was nowhere to be seen. Grumbling, he dressed and went to look for her. It was later than he thought; it appeared she had taken Henry to school. There was a note for him stuck to ice box. He was in the process of making his tea when Emma came through the door.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey yourself,” she replied, kissing him softly. “Sorry about this morning. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you.”

“I'd much rather spend my time with you than asleep, lass,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Emma grinned. “Of that I've no doubt,” she said. She kissed him again, giving a yelp when he tugged her closer unexpectedly with his hook. He took full advantage, deepening the kiss in a tangle of lips and tongues and teeth. He had just hoisted her onto the counter and was sucking hard on her pulse point when there was a knock at the door.

“Ignore it,” Killian muttered against her throat.

“Shouldn't,” she gasped. “Could...be...important.”

“Bloody hell,” he complained, as she pushed him away and hopped off the counter. He watched as she ran her hands through her now unruly hair, trying (in vain, Killian thought) to make herself look more presentable.

When she opened the door, however, there was no one there. “See?” Killian said, annoyed.

But Emma wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was staring at an envelope. Killian walked over and examined it over her shoulder. “What is it, love?”

“No idea.” She tore it open and pulled out a single folded sheet. “It's from August,” she said, still confused.

Killian took the note from her and read it himself. Each word made him angrier; he balled up the paper and threw it aside. “Bloody wanker,” he muttered. “Who in the bleeding hell does he think he is?”

“Killian,” Emma began.

“No, love, just don't. And if you think I'm going let the sodding wanker anywhere near you, think again.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you _jealous_ of Pinocchio?”

“Not bloody likely.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “You so are.” When he didn't respond, her face softened. “I've _never_ thought of August that way. And even if I had, he abandoned me when I was a baby, remember? How could I forgive that?”

“Too right, lass.” He paused. “He has the gall to call _me_ a 'no good scoundrel who will bring you nothing but pain.' If he was a man, I'd run him through.”

“Well, the scoundrel part is accurate,” Emma smirked.

“Oi!”

“Well, are you a pirate or not?”

Killian ignored her. “I'm still not letting you talk to him alone, Emma. There's something about him I don't trust.”

“You noticed that too, huh? I thought so,” she replied. “I want you there. Anything August has to say to me, he can say to you. We're a team, right?”

“That we are.”

A couple of hours later, Killian and Emma sat at one of Granny's more spacious booths waiting for August. They heard, rather than saw, him arrive. The weight of the puppet's wooden footfalls echoed across the diner. One look at August's face told him that the puppet was _not_ happy to see him, but Killian was past caring.

As August settled into his side of the booth (he was moving much better Killian noticed), he said, “I had asked you to come alone, Emma.”

“Yeah, well, insulting Killian was not the best way to make that happen.”

“He's not going to like what I have to say.”

“Why don't you try me, mate?” Killian shot back. He didn't like how August tried to talk about him like he wasn't even there.

August glared. “Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Cut the melodrama, August. What is so damn important?”

“Remember when I said I had to send a message after you broke the curse?”

“Yeah.”

“I sent it to New York City.”

“Who do you know in New York?”

“It's not who I know, Emma, it's who you know.”

“Enough with the cryptic, August,” Emma shot back, exasperated. “As far as I know, I don't know anyone from the Big Apple.”

“I'm afraid you do. I sent the message to Neal.”

Killian felt her grip on his hand tighten. He looked at her and she was white. All the color had drained out of her face. There was only one person Killian knew of from Emma's past; it wasn't hard to put it together. “Why would you send a message to that wanker?” Killian asked, disgusted.

“Because I promised him I would when Emma fulfilled her destiny.”

That snapped Emma out of her silence. “ _You what?_ ” she asked. “How do you even know Neal?”

“That night in Phoenix? When you got arrested?”

“Yeah?”

“I was there that night. I convinced Neal to leave you; that it was for the greater good.” He paused, trying to gauge Emma's reaction. Then he continued, “I...I...showed him something, proved to him that I was telling the truth. He was leading you down a bad road, Emma. I was sent here to look out for you. And then I just left you. Once you were out of the system, I tracked you down. When I saw what kind of life you were living, I knew I had to do something. So when Neal went to hock the watches, I talked to him. He agreed to leave, to get out of your life. He didn't want to, Emma. Please understand that. But he knew your destiny was more important.”

Killian had never heard of a more presumptuous, condescending thing in his very long life. The puppet – who if Killian recalled correctly from the moving picture had a shoddy view of right and wrong anyway – and this Neal bloke deliberately took control on Emma's life without her consent. They decided what was right for her. Worse, they conspired to send her to _prison_. And she'd been forced to give birth to her son there and give him away. Anger didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling. That paled in comparison to Emma, who to Killian's intense worry, still hadn't said anything.

“Emma, love?” he asked, gentler than he thought he could under the circumstances.

Emma looked at him, the anger and intense hurt marring her beautiful features. Killian wanted to kill August for putting that look on her face, but he held his peace. Barely.

“I'm so sorry, Emma.” August said.

“August? _Stop talking,”_ Emma growled. Killian almost felt sorry for the puppet. Almost. “You're _sorry?_ I gave birth to my son in prison because of you. I had to give him away. I haven't been able to form a lasting relationship for _ten years_ and you're _sorry?_ Henry almost _died_ because I was too stubborn and closed off to believe and you're _sorry?”_

“Emma,” August tried to say.

“Little advice, mate? Shut it. The lady is talking.”

“You have no place in this, _pirate_ ,” August spat. “You're no better.”

Emma stood, clearly furious. “Killian is ten times the man you or Neal are,” she announced loudly. “He would never abandon me. Or Henry.”

“We'll see about that,” August muttered.

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, puppet?”

“It means that Neal is coming here. To Storybrooke.”

“I don't want him here. Ever,” Emma said, indignantly.

“He's not just coming for you, Emma.”

“What?”

“His father is here too.”

“What? Neal's father is in Storybrooke? How is that possible? He told me his parents were dead.”

“When I found you, I did some digging. Something about Neal's records didn't make sense. There was a rumor in our land about the Dark One having a son. It wasn't hard to figure out.”

“Gods,” Killian breathed. Neal was Baelfire. Milah's Baelfire. The boy she cried about late at night when she thought Killian was asleep. If anything that made what he did to Emma even more despicable. Baelfire had been abandoned, how could he? It made him no better than his father, a coward.

“Wait, Neal is Gold's son? That means he's also...” she trailed off, looking at Killian. “Oh my god.”

“Now do you see?” August said.

Emma looked him quizzically. “See what, August?”

“That you don't belong with the pirate. He stole your son's grandmother away from her home.”

“Now what just a tick,” Killian said, angry. “Milah made a choice. She _chose_ to come with me. In fact, she _begged_ me to take her with me. She thought about that boy every single day, I could see it in her eyes. And if she'd have begged me to return her to him, I would have. You don't know a sodding thing about Milah or me. You don't even know Emma. If you did, you'd know that what you did was the exact _wrong_ thing for her. She needs to be loved; she deserves to be loved. She deserves someone who would do anything for her and most importantly, fight for her.”

“And you think that's you?”

“It doesn't matter what I think,” Killian said. “It matters what _she_ thinks.”

“Emma?” August asked.

“I don't have anything else to say to you, August,” she said, coldly. “If you'll excuse us, we have to go tell my son some bad news.”

Emma turned and headed out of the diner; Killian followed. As soon as they were out of the diner's line of sight, Emma broke down. The anger had faded and now there was nothing but the hurt. Killian wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she cried. He knew she hated being seen as weak or fragile, so he didn't try to say anything. He just let her get it out. Eventually, Emma raised her head, sniffing.

“How could they?” she asked.

“I don't know, love. Anyone who would let you go is worse than a fool.”

“I wasn't the greatest person back then,” she observed.

“And I'm not the greatest person now,” he replied. “And yet you love me.”

“I meant what I said back there, Killian. If Neal does turn up, you don't have anything to worry about.”

“I know.”

“Does it change anything though?”

Killian knitted his brow in confusion. “I'm not following you, darling.”

“Neal is Milah's son,” she said slowly, lowering her eyes.

“That just means I won't kill him when I see him,” Killian said, seriously. “I will always love her, Emma. Aye, Neal is a part of her. But he hurt you. He understood what being abandoned meant, and he did it to you anyway. Milah is gone. I've mourned her for three hundred years. Until I fell in love with you. _You,_ not the Savior or the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming or whatever ridiculous moniker the people around you try to give you. You're the strongest woman I've ever met; I saw that the moment we met. I love you, Emma Swan, and will stand by your side always, if you'll have me.”

“That's a rhetorical question, right?” Emma asked, smiling through her tears. 

“Wasn't a question, love.”

“You know in some circles, what you just said would be considered a proposal of marriage.”

Killian laughed, a little nervously. “And what do you consider it?”

“Calm down, Captain. Forget I even said that. Let's put a hold on anything resembling _that_ conversation until our family's safe, OK?”

“As you wish, princess.” He didn't miss how she'd said _our_ family, but didn't call her out on it. In a way, he supposed it was true. With Henry being Milah's grandson, he had even more incentive to look after the boy. Aside from the fact that he genuinely liked Henry, such a brave and precocious lad. So unlike his father.

“I really wish you'd stop calling me that,” Emma said.

“Henry's going to be home from school soon, love,” Killian observed.

“Yeah,” she said, looking like someone headed to the gallows. “What on earth do I tell him? He's going to be so upset.”

“Finding out you're related to the Dark One would be traumatic, I would imagine.”

“No, no, you don't understand. I _lied_ to him, Killian. He asked me about his father and I lied. I didn't want him to know the circumstances of his birth. I was too ashamed. I didn't want him to hate me.”

“Henry worships you, Emma.”

“But that's just it! Henry still sees me as the Savior, not his very flawed, very human mother. Who messes up. A lot. I tell him about Neal and he'll hate me, I know it.”

“Emma, listen to me. You are a bloody good mother. I've seen you with him and I think you're wrong. Will he be upset that you lied? Probably. But in the long run, he'll be glad _you_ told him the truth, rather than find out from someone else. Believe in yourself, Emma.”

Emma threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I love you, Killian. So much.”

Killian couldn't help the well of happiness that threatened to spill over every time she said that. He hoped that never went away. Killian never thought he could be this happy again; he knew it wasn't something he deserved. But he'd be damned if he let anyone – including Neal – take it away.

“Shall we, love?”

“Yeah.”

They got to the bus stop, just as Henry was getting off. “Mom! Killian,” he said excitedly when he saw them.

“Hey, kid,” Emma said, ruffling his hair.

“What's wrong?” Henry asked.

Emma glanced at Killian before answering, “Let's wait until we get home, OK? How was school?”

That kept the lad occupied until they reached the apartment. “Hot chocolate, Henry?” Emma asked.

“Sure!”

Soon after all three of them were settled at the dining room table with their hot chocolate (a drink that Killian was coming to appreciate). Killian watched as Emma fiddled nervously with her mug, clearly unsure how to begin. Under the table, Killian reached over and squeezed her thigh reassuringly. She looked at him gratefully.

“Are you having a baby?” Henry asked. “Cause it's totally OK if you are.”

“What?!” Emma cried. “No, definitely not.”

Henry's face fell. “Oh. I just thought that,” the boy paused looking from Killian to Emma. “You're getting married?”

“No!” Killian tried not to be too offended, even though they'd just had that conversation not a half hour ago. As for children...gods, that wasn't even something that had remotely entered his head. Suddenly this was moving _way_ too fast. Killian certainly did not consider himself father material; he was a pirate captain! What did he know about it? He desperately wanted a drink, something far stronger than hot chocolate, but he couldn't leave. Emma needed him.

“Well, what is it then?” Henry asked.

Emma took a deep breath. “Remember when you asked me about your dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I may not have told you the whole truth.”

“Which part?”

“All of it? This isn't going to be easy for you to hear, Henry. But I'd rather you heard it from me than someone else, OK?” Henry nodded. Slowly, Emma began to tell the story. Killian watched Henry carefully. A tear slipped down Emma's cheek when she described giving Henry away, without even getting to hold him. Killian reached out and took her hand, silently imploring her to take what little comfort he could give.

When Emma finished, Henry said, “Was any of it true?”

“You mean before?” Henry nodded. “I did love him, Henry. At the time, I loved him very much. And I am so sorry I lied to you. I just didn't want you to know that your father was a...”

“Thief?” Henry said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he's changed?”

“Neal? I don't know, Henry. There's something else you should know. Neal isn't just your father. He's also Mr. Gold's son.”

“He is? But how?”

“Honestly, I'm not quite sure how it works. I'm sure Mr. Gold could tell us, but I'm not anxious to ask him.”

“So I'm Rumplestiltskin's grandson? But he's evil! How can that be? Am I...evil too?” Henry looked close to tears. Clearly, his newfound family tree was more upsetting than Emma's lie, just as Killian had suspected.

Emma got up and kneeled in front of her son. “Henry, listen to me. You are a _good_ person. The best person I know. We can't help who were related to, OK? But they don't define who we are. You do that with the choices you make. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Emma pulled Henry into a hug, a relieved smile gracing her features. That was when Killian decided that children with Emma Swan? Not the worst idea in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

As hard as it was to believe, life actually went on in Storybrooke. Cora, August, Neal, Gold – most of Storybrooke didn't know the troubles of their Sheriff. Things had been quiet for a while – too quiet. Emma had been too busy dealing with the ever shifting crises in her personal life to really question it; she'd just been thankful. But she was rudely reminded that she had actual duties aside from hunting down evil witches and the impending arrival of exes when her phone rang at three o'clock in the morning. She fumbled for it on the nightstand, but it wasn't there. In her sleepy haze, she remembered that it was still in her jeans that Killian had tossed aside hours before. Grumbling, Emma got out of bed and went in search of the shrill ring. Finally she found it in a patch of pale moonlight that shone on the floor.

“Swan,” she said, sleepily.

“Sheriff?” said an accented voice. It was vaguely familiar.

“Belle?”

“I know it's late, but could you come by the library? I swear I heard something downstairs and...”

“Whoa, calm down. Of course I'll be there. Sit tight, OK?”

“OK. Thank you.”

Emma hung up and looked around for the rest of her clothes. It was awkward dressing in the dark, but she didn't want to wake Killian. He would insist on coming with her and someone needed to stay with Henry. Besides, _she_ was the sheriff; she could handle a simple break in. Emma clipped on her badge and gun before heading for the door. She took one last glance at Killian sleeping form before closing the bedroom door. Quietly, she headed to to the kitchen and scribbled a note, letting her boys know where she'd gotten to and that she'd be home ASAP.

That done, Emma left the apartment and drove over to the library. The moonlight cast long shadows inside, Emma couldn't make out anything through the window. She drew her gun and tried the door. It was unlocked and opened easily. That couldn't be good. Carefully, Emma edged through the door, raising her gun. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light but she still couldn't really see anyone. She heard a hinge creak loudly in the darkness and whirled toward the sound.

“Who's there?” she called.

A blaze of light appeared and Emma squeezed her eyes against it. When she opened them, Belle was standing across from her a baseball bat in her hands. She was looking at Emma with wide eyes; Emma realized belatedly that she was pointing her gun directly at Belle.

“Sorry,” Emma apologized, lowering the gun to the floor. “I thought I told you to sit tight?”

“I know, but I've never really been one for doing what I was told,” Belle said, still looking a bit freaked. “Besides, I saw you pull up outside.”

“Oh.”

“Find anything yet? I swear, I'm not crazy. I _heard_ something.”

“No, I believe you, Belle,” Emma said. “Now that the lights are on, let's see what we can find, OK?”

But they didn't get a chance to do a thorough search; their prey made it easy. A crash sounded from the back of the stacks. Emma took off running, Belle on her heels. Emma admired her courage; although it tracked that one would need courage to even attempt to date Gold. When they reached the source of the sound, they found an entire section of the stacks toppled over. Books were scattered everywhere, clearly meant to block their way. Emma cursed under her breath and picked her way through the carnage. She came to a back door; the lock looked like it had been forced.

“Where does this go?” she asked.

“The alley...I think,” Belle replied.

“Great.”

Emma opened the door and stepped into the alley. She looked to the right and left, trying to figure out which way the intruder had gone. It was no use though. Belle looked at her and nodded, anticipating her question. Emma went left, gun raised. She didn't see Belle go the right; she just hoped the baseball would be enough. The moonlight peaked through just enough to give Emma some idea of where she was going. About 50 feet from the door, Emma spotted something. She bent to pick it up; it was a woolen hat. It was hard to make out in the dark , but Emma was willing to bet that it was red. Smee.

Emma tucked the hat into her jacket pocket and continued down the alley. She was convinced that Smee couldn't have gone far. There didn't appear to be any sign of him, however. Then Emma heard a rustling sound from the dumpster. _Gotcha_ , she thought.

Emma lifted the lid on the dumpster and found a quivering Smee lying on top of some foul smelling garbage. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but kept her gun pointed at Smee. “Out of the dumpster, _slowly_ ,” she instructed.

“Please, Sheriff,” Smee begged.

“Out. Now.”

Smee nodded and climbed out. Once he was free of the dumpster, Emma pushed him up against the wall of the alley and fished for her handcuffs. She secured them firmly around both of Smee's wrists; only then did she holster her gun.

“Why break into the library?” she asked.

“I had an object to acquire.”

“For Cora?”

Smee looked down at the ground. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“What is it?”

Smee only grinned at her. “Don't I have rights in this world?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Normally? Yeah. But I am _not_ really in the mood when it has to do with Cora. Where is she, Smee?”

“I don't know.”

“You expect me to believe that? Doesn't the errand boy need somewhere to deliver his goods?”

“I swear I don't know. She just...appears.”

Even in the dark, Emma got the feeling that Smee wasn't lying. But she couldn't very well just let him wander free. He was still their only lead to Cora. So she grabbed him by the shoulder and led him back to the squad car. As she was setting Smee in the back seat, Belle reappeared.

“Him?”

“Appears so. Listen, Belle, do you have any idea what he could have been looking for?”

Belle frowned. “No. Why does he keep bothering _me?_ ”

“I don't think it's about you, Belle. More like...” she trailed off uncomfortably. The last time she saw Belle, Gold tried to kill Killian.

“Rumplestiltskin.”

“Well, yeah. You're the person closest to him. It makes sense that Cora would think you'd either know something or have something she could use against him.”

“I'd never help her hurt Rumple,” she said, stubbornly.

“Not voluntarily. Which I'm sure our Mr. Smee has figured out by now, hence why he broke in. Are you _sure_ there's nothing?”

“There's _nothing_. Rumple never wanted me involved in his...dealings. I'm beginning to see why,” she said, bitterly.

“Is that why you called me and not him?” Emma asked, gently.

Belle looked so sad, Emma couldn't help but feel bad for her. “Yes. Please don't tell him. I'm not ready to do...I don't even know what. After what I saw how can I even consider...”

“You love him,” Emma said. “It's not a crime, Belle. You want to believe in him; that's not a crime either. But he has to _want_ to change. You can't force it. Just give it time, baby steps. Encourage him where you can, but remember the choice has to be his.”

“Thank you, Emma. I know after what he tried to do...”

“I won't deny that I'm not his biggest fan, but if you believe in him then that's good enough for me. For now.” Emma didn't think it was wise to inform Belle about Neal's – Baelfire's – impending arrival. The poor woman was dealing with enough already.

Belle looked at her apprehensively, clearly debating something. Finally, she said, “Is he alright? Hook, I mean.”

“Yeah, he's fine,” Emma replied, wondering where this could possibly be going.

“He tried to kill me once.”

Emma blinked. She hadn't known _that_. Although, it made sense. Killian would have gone after Belle for the same reason Cora did. The man she'd met in the Enchanted Forest had been angry and vengeful enough to hurt an innocent like Belle. As much as she was sure of that, she was also certain that the man she knew now – the man she loved – wouldn't.

“Look, Belle,” she began, but the brunette held up a hand.

“It's OK, Emma. I understand. If there is _anyone_ , who would understand...” Belle trailed off, looking sad.

“I suppose that's true.” Emma changed the subject. “I'm going to take Smee to the station, keep him locked up. He shouldn't bother you anymore.”

Belle nodded in gratitude and headed back inside the library. Emma watched her go, thinking about the capacity of people to change. Once Belle was safely inside, Emma climbed into her squad car and drove back to the station. The clock on the dash told her it was after five. Ugh. She didn't feel like she could leave Smee alone at the station and it was too early to call for reinforcements. She'd have to sit with him. So much for getting home to Killian and Henry before they could even notice she was gone.

Once they arrived at the station, Emma half walked and half dragged Smee to the holding cell. There she locked him securely behind the bars, then removed the cuffs. Emma tried questioning him for a while, trying to find out what exactly he had been looking for, but the man wouldn't talk. Finally, Emma gave up, too tired to argue. The adrenaline that had kept her going was fading. She'd just have to take a fresh crack at him after she'd had some sleep. Or maybe David could.

Emma went back to her desk, sighing at the mound of paperwork that had piled up there. Since she clearly had time to kill, Emma decided to try and make a dent in it. She'd gotten about half way through it when her phone rang. It was after seven according to the display.

“Swan,” she said, yawning.

“Mom?” came Henry's voice. “Is everything OK?”

Emma kicked herself, she had intended to call knowing Killian and Henry would worry, but she hadn't expected them awake so early. “Yeah, Henry, everything's fine. Break in at the library, nothing major.” It was only a tiny fib; she didn't want to burden Henry with all Cora drama.

“When are you coming home?”

“Not sure, kid. Listen, is Killian awake? Can you put him on?”

A few days ago, she'd shown Killian how to use the phone; it was a work in progress to say the least. She heard Henry hand the phone off to Killian, reminding Killian that he didn't need to shout.

“Emma?” His voice sounded slightly tinny through the connection, but she heard the concern all the same.

“Hey. Don't worry, I'm fine,” she said before he could even broach the subject.

“Why didn't you wake me? I'd have gone with you, love.”

“That's exactly why I didn't wake you. Someone needed to stay with Henry. And _I'm_ the sheriff, Killian, not you. It's my job.”

“You don't have to save the whole town by yourself, Emma.”

“I wasn't,” she started, then stopped herself. They would just go around in circles and she didn't have time for that. “Can we talk about this later? It was a simple break in, Killian. That's all. Wanna guess who it was?”

She proceeded to tell Killian the whole story about Smee's attempted breaking and entering of the library. When she finished, Killian laughed. “He always was an incompetent fool. Want me to take a crack at him?”

“Maybe later. I'm thinking about letting him stew for a while. Withhold bread and water, that sort of thing.”

“I always knew you'd make a hell of a pirate, love,” he practically purred into the phone. It sent a shiver down her spine. Suddenly, she wished he were there and not on the phone. She heard the door to the station open; it was probably David. “Listen, Killian, David's here. I'll be home soon, OK? Why don't you and Henry go over to the stables and I'll meet you for lunch later?”

She intended to take a nap, try and catch up on some of the sleep she'd lost in the last few hours. Killian agreed and they hung up. Emma was restacking her papers when she looked up to greet her father. But the man in the doorway wasn't David. It was Neal.

He was older than she remembered, but it obviously him. He wore jeans and a dark button down shirt, covered with a sport coat. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. For seemingly endless minutes, they just stared. Finally, Neal spoke.

“Hello, Emma.”

Emma swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. What do you say to the long lost father of your son, who abandoned you to rot in jail for his crime? It wasn't the kind of situation covered in Dear Abby. To stall for time, Emma came around to the front of her desk, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

“What do you want, Neal?”

“That's all I get? I get that you're angry and you have every right to be. But you really should hear me out. It's not what you think, I swear.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him. “You mean you didn't abandon me, rat me out of the cops for something you did then wait until a puppet gave you the all clear to find me?” No way was she mentioning Henry to him.

Neal had the decency to look chagrined. “I _had_ to Emma! It was for your own good. You had a destiny and I couldn't stand in the way of it. August showed me...”

Emma cut him off. “I don't care _what_ August showed you. Don't you understand? _You_ made the choice to leave me. August didn't hold a gun to your head. You chose to abandon me of your own free will. You chose to rat me out of the cops. So give me one good reason I should listen to _anything_ you have to say?”

“What about Henry?”

Emma blinked. She was going to _kill_ August. Despite what she'd told Henry, she'd hoped to get Neal out of town before he ever found out about Henry. Now thanks to that damn puppet that was blown to hell.

“Emma, we have a son. He deserves to have both his parents.”

“No, Neal. _I_ have a son. You don't. And Henry has plenty of father figures in his life now. He doesn't need you.”

“I want to see him.”

“I'll take it under advisement.”

“Emma,” Neal said, stepping closer to her, “why are you being like this? I love you. And I'm _sorry_. I really am. I never wanted this. But I didn't have a choice. Please believe me.”

Emma stepped back, but her desk prevented her from getting very far. She didn't want Neal anywhere near her. The fact that he could stand there and proclaim to love her after what he did made her sick. But Neal took her move for permission; he stepped even closer and reached out for her.

“I've missed you so much,” Neal murmured. But Emma had had enough. She balled her fist at her side, then swung with all her strength at Neal's jaw. She heard a satisfying pop when she connected and sent Neal staggering.

“What was that for?” he cried, his speech slurred.

“Take your pick. Now get out of my office. And don't go near Henry unless I say so, got it?”

“Emma...”

“ _Out. Now.”_

Neal glared for a second then turned and left. Once he was out of sight, Emma slumped against the edge of her desk. The emotional stress on top of her exhaustion was catching up with her in a rush. She blinked back tears, silently wishing that Killian was there.

“Emma,” came a voice, “what's wrong?”

Emma looked up and saw her parents standing in the doorway. They had brought breakfast from Granny's; the smell of the coffee cut through Emma's distress. She stood up and pulled herself together. She didn't need them worrying any more than was necessary. She grabbed one of the coffee cups and sat at her desk.

“It's a long story,” she said, gesturing for them to sit.

 

 

“Time to go, lad,” Killian called from stables. “Your mum's waiting.”

“Five more minutes?” Henry asked, trotting toward him on Jolly.

“Afraid not, Henry. You still have to brush him down and such before we can leave.”

“Oh, yeah.” Henry led Jolly to his stall and climbed down. It was only recently that he'd begun riding; he had a gift for it. Which made sense, Killian supposed, given who his grandfather was. Seeing Henry with Jolly was bittersweet though; it reminded Killian of his own horse when he was a boy. But that was before his parents died and he'd gone off for a life of adventure and survival as a pirate. Today was supposed to be the day Henry displayed his skills for Emma and she'd been forced to miss it. The sooner Cora was dealt with the better, Killian mused.

Once Jolly was squared away, they headed back to the apartment. When they got there, the door was ajar. Something was very obviously wrong. Killian was certain they had locked it before leaving and it wasn't like Emma to leave the door open like that. Instinctively, Killian reached for his sword, but it wasn't there. Cursing under his breath, he realized he'd left in the bedroom. Fat lot of good it was doing him there. Killian turned back to Henry, kneeling down so they were eye level.

“Can you do something for me, Henry?” he whispered.

Henry nodded, immediately sensing the tension. Emma was right, Henry was quite the perceptive lad.

“I want you to stay right here, yeah? No matter what you hear, I want you to stay right here. Can you do that?”

Henry nodded again. “There's a good lad. I should be right back.” Killian waited until Henry had tucked himself underneath the stairs out of sight, before heading into the apartment.

It looked surprisingly...normal. There were a few things out of place, but you would only notice it if you'd spent a lot of time there and had a feel for where things were supposed to be. Both he and Emma were fairly neat people (unless clothes were being shed), a consequence of living life on the move. One had to know where things were at all times in case you needed to gather it in a hurry for yet another move. It didn't appear as if anything was _missing_ , just moved around a bit. Cautiously, Killian moved into the bedroom. The door there was ajar as well. No one was there, but Killian got the distinct impression that someone _had_ been there. As he strapped his sword around his waist, Killian noticed that a photo (Henry had explained those in his first days in this realm) of Emma and Henry that Emma kept on her dresser was gone. And suddenly, Killian knew exactly who their visitor was.

There was a crash from upstairs and Killian immediately ran in the direction of the sound. He got to the bottom of the stairs just as Neal appeared at the top, clearly having just exited Henry's room. Neal had Henry's book under his arm, along with a few other trinkets. There was a rather large bruise on the left side of his face. Despite that, Killian was struck by how much Neal looked like his father; there was very little of Milah in his face. That would make this easier. Far better to think of him as the man who nearly ruined Emma's life than the boy he'd seen that night in the tavern. Killian didn't draw his sword...yet. No need for that.

“Thieving's a hard habit to break, or so I'm told,” he said loudly.

Neal regarded him with wide eyes. “I didn't mean,” he began.

“Seems to me there's a lot of things you didn't mean, if I've heard the story correctly.”

Neal narrowed his eyes as he continued down the stairs. “Who are you?” he asked, but Killian could tell by the way the muscle jumped in the other man's jaw that Neal knew exactly who he was.

“Do you always asked questions that you already know the answer to?”

Neal's eyes darted to Killian hook. “My father told me about you.”

“Told you all about the horrible nasty pirate, did he?”

“He told me enough.”

“I highly doubt that. Rumplestiltskin believes everything is someone else's fault; it's _never_ his. Surely you've figured that out by now?”

“It doesn't matter; I'm here for Emma and my son, not him.”

Killian fingered the hilt of his sword. “Shall I list all the ways _that's_ not going to happen?”

“You can't keep them from me, pirate. Emma's angry, but she'll come around. I can wait. I just need to see Henry,” Neal said, holding up his prizes.

“I'd advise you to put those back where you found them, before this gets uglier than it has to be,” Killian warned, fully conscious of Henry being just outside the door.

“Or what? You think she belongs to you, pirate? Emma's mine; I've waited ten years to get her back. Haven't you taken enough from me already?” The jibe about Milah made Killian's hand grip the hilt of the sword on instinct.

“You made your choice, as your mother made hers before you. You think you can just _abandon_ her and she'd welcome you back with open arms?” Killian's eyes flickered to the bruise on Neal's cheek. “But she didn't, did she? Quite the nasty bruise you've got there.” _That's my girl,_ he thought.

“She's just angry. She'll get past it.”

“You don't know her as well as you think you do, mate.”

“And you do?” Neal said, finally getting in Killian's face. Or trying to since Killian stood taller than him by at least a hand.

“You really have no idea what you did to her, do you? You _shattered_ her, you bloody fool. You made it damn near impossible for her to trust _anyone_ ; to let anyone in. Even worse, you sent her to jail for _your_ crime. You're a coward, Baelfire,” he spat. “And if you were anyone else's son, I'd run you through for the hell you put her through. Now it's best you give me Henry's things and get out of here before I change my mind.”

The flicker of defiance died in Neal's eyes. He looked from Killian's face to the sword and swallowed. Slowly, Neal sat Henry's things on the floor. Killian was mildly disappointed. This was Neal's chance; a chance to fight for the things he claimed to want. And he didn't. It was so hard for him to believe that this was the boy that Milah had brought into the world; Baelfire was nothing like her.

“What's going on here? Killian?” Emma asked, bringing the world back into focus. Killian stepped aside to let her see. “ _Neal?_ What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay away from me.”

Killian tried not to smile; it was just as he'd suspected. Neal had tried Emma first and when that didn't work, had tried to get to Henry instead.

“Mom?” Henry said, entering the room. Killian saw Emma close her eyes briefly, the resignation evident on her face. He wanted to go to her, but thought it best to stay between Neal and his family. If Emma didn't want anything to do with Neal, then that was where Killian belonged.

“Hey, kid,” Emma said, forcing some cheer into her voice. She put her arm protectively around Henry. “Henry, this is Neal,” she said, gesturing to him.

“Hi,” Henry said, cautiously. Then his eyes narrowed. “Is that my stuff?”

Neal looked chagrined. “Um, yeah. Sorry about that. I just thought...”

“Oh my god, Neal!” Emma cried. “You were here _stealing_ Henry's things? That's low, even for you.”

“You didn't give me a choice, Emma! How else was I supposed to see him? You owe me that, at least!”

Emma's eyes went comically wide. “Excuse me? I _owe_ you? _You_ left _me._ I don't owe you a damn thing. Now get out of my house. And stay away from us.”

“Emma...”

“You heard the lady,” Killian cut in angrily. He had had enough of this. “Out or I'll throw you out bodily.”

Neal looked around helplessly before brushing past Killian and out the door. Emma shut the door firmly behind him. “I can't believe that just happened.”

Killian and Henry went to her at the same time. Emma hugged them both tightly. “I hate that you guys had to see that,” she murmured.

Killian kissed her forehead. “Nothing to be sorry for, love. You didn't make him do anything.”

“I guess some people can't change,” Henry said, sadly. “I thought...”

“Oh, Henry,” Emma said, releasing Killian and hugging Henry to her. “I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to see any of this.”

“I know,” Henry said. “Do I have to see him again?”

Emma held her son at arm's length. “Not if you don't want to. But think about it, OK? And believe me, if you do see him again, Killian and I will be there.”

Henry smiled. “OK, I'll think about it.”

Emma's phone rang. As she went to answer it, Henry came over to Killian. “Thanks,” he said. “For sticking up for my mom.”

“Your mum's an amazing woman, but you know that already, don't you?”

“Yeah, she is pretty great,” Henry said, looking over at her as she spoke on the phone. “I'm glad she has you, Killian.”

Killian reached out and ruffled the boy's hair. “Not half as glad as I am, lad.”

“That was David,” Emma said, hanging up the phone. “He got Smee to crack. I need to go to the station.”

Killian had a bad feeling. Something about this didn't sit right with him. Smee confessed all to David? Nothing against Emma's father, but it seemed unlikely. “I'll go with you,” he said. “I'd have a word or two with Mr. Smee.”

Emma looked from Killian to Henry. “Henry, could you give Killian and I a minute?”

“Sure,” he said, moving to take his belongings back to his room.

“Emma,” Killian began, but Emma put a finger to his lips. Once Henry was gone, she nodded. “I don't like this, Emma,” Killian continued. “You've been gone for what? An hour? No one cracks that soon, especially someone who's been on _my_ crew.”

“I thought you said Smee was a coward?”

“He is. Always looking for the protection of someone bigger, more powerful. Once upon a time, that was me. Now it's Cora. He knows what she'd do to him if he talked.”

“So you want me to what? He's our only lead, Killian. Every minute Cora's out there is a minute that we're in danger. I won't let her hurt Henry. Or you. If David says he got Smee to talk, I believe him.”

“Then let me go with you.”

Emma shook her head. “Did you see what happened here a little while ago? Neal was _here_ , Killian. In our house. In Henry's room. We can't leave him alone.”

“What about Regina?” Killian asked, regretting it the second it was out of his mouth. He knew how Emma felt about the Queen.

“If this were anything other than Neal, I'd agree with you. But she doesn't know, Killian. And if she found out that Henry's father was snooping around...there's no telling what she'd do. And I'm not even worried about Neal. She's...vulnerable right now and I don't want to put any more stress on her. If she snapped...Henry believes in her, Killian. You saw how he reacted to Neal. I don't want another person in his life to fail him.”

Killian cupped her cheek with his good hand. “You didn't fail him, lass. If anything, he loves you more than ever. As so I.”

Emma smiled. “I love you, too, Killian. That's why I need you to stay with him. There's no one I trust to keep him safe more than you.”

Killian leaned in to kiss her, touched by her faith in him. They'd come so far in such a short time; it was still hard for him to believe sometimes. As he pulled away, she chuckled. “Besides, I'll be back before you know it. I want you with me when we go after Her Evilness.”

“Fair enough, love. But if there's anything amiss, you'll call straightaway, yeah?”

“I promise.” She kissed him again, then grabbed her keys and left.

Several hours later, Killian and Henry were watching another of Henry's moving pictures. This one had a boy wizard who looked a lot like Henry. Killian tried to pay attention, but he kept looking at the clock. Emma had been gone a while. That uneasy feeling was back. The phone in the kitchen rang and Henry ran to answer it.

“Killian?” he called. “It's for you. It's Grandpa.”

Killian's brow creased in confusion as he took the receiver from Henry. “David?” he said, remembering not to shout.

“Is Emma there?” David asked.

“No, she's supposed to be at the station with you lot.”

“Well, she's not here either and Smee is gone.”

“What do you mean, _gone_?” Killian growled. “Where the bloody hell did he go?”

“I don't know. One minute I was interrogating him and the next I woke up and he was gone.”

“But Emma said you'd gotten him to confess. You called her.”

“I don't know who called her, but it wasn't me. Or Snow.”

Killian closed his eyes and tried to breathe; he was gripping the receiver so hard his knuckles were turning white.

“Killian?”

Killian blew out a breath. “It was Cora. That sodding shape shifting witch!” he shouted, slamming the phone down so hard, it shattered.

“What's wrong?” Henry asked. “Where's Emma?” 

Killian looked at Henry; for the first time in Killian's recollection, he looked frightened. “I don't know, Henry. But I _will_ find her. I swear to you, I will bring her back to us.”

Cora had crossed a line. Killian would see her ended before this was over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a flashback in it. I put that in italics, hopefully it's not too hard to follow. Enjoy!

Killian stormed into the sheriff's station, sword on his hip and Henry in tow. Killian didn't know what else to do with him; the responsibilities of a parent still being a foreign concept in his mind. However, with Emma gone, Snow and Prince Charming were the only family Henry had left. And Killian had promised to keep him safe.

“Grandma!” Henry cried when he saw Snow.

“Henry!” Snow wrapped the boy in a bear hug, while nodding gratefully at Killian. She had the anxious look of a mother missing her child and Killian's heart clenched at the sight. It was a look he knew all too well.

“Do you have any idea what the bloody hell happened?” Killian asked.

David shrugged, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, I was here interrogating Smee. Cora must have done something, rendered me unconscious, then got to Emma somewhere between the apartment and here.”

“I already called Red, Killian,” Snow cut in before he could argue, “She's looking for Emma right now.”

“The wolf?” Killian asked, almost absentmindedly. Poor girl was the closest thing to a bloodhound this realm had, if anyone could find Emma in Storybrooke, it was her. But he couldn't just sit there and wait. He needed to be _doing_ something. He paused, contemplating. He'd promised Emma that he'd keep Henry safe, but he couldn't just wait around to see if the she wolf turned up anything. His instincts were screaming at him to _go_.

“Sod it,” he muttered. Killian turned on his heel and started down the hall.

“Wait!” David called. “Just where do you think you're going?”

“Out to look for Emma, your highness,” Killian said, his anxiety causing him to speak more harshly than he'd intended. “If that's alright with you, of course.”

David's eyes darted from Killian to Snow and Henry. Clutching Henry closer to her, Snow nodded at her husband. “Go,” she said. “Henry and I will hold down the fort here. Be careful. Both of you.”

Killian and David didn't talk much as they left. By mutual agreement, they climbed into David's truck and went to double check the road between Emma's apartment and the station. It was the most likely place for Cora to have pounced. But Emma's Bug was nowhere to be seen. Finally, they found it in a place where it shouldn't have been, down by the docks.

“What was she doing here?” David mused.

Killian ignored him as he examined the car thoroughly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he opened the driver's side door. Magic. There had been magic done near there, he could feel it. The same thing happened the two times Rumplestiltskin had had his hand deep in Killian's chest. His eyes could see nothing amiss though. He got down on his knees and examined the floor. Still seeing nothing, he slid his hook underneath the driver's seat. He stopped when he heard his hook make contact with something metallic. Carefully, he used his hook to slide the mysterious object forward. It was Emma's phone. Killian picked it up in his good hand and called for David.

“What is it?” David asked.

“Emma's phone. I found it under the seat.”

David took it and slid his thumb across the screen. To Killian's surprise, he smiled. “That's my girl.”

“What?”

“Emma left us a clue,” David replied, still grinning. Then his face fell. “She's not in Storybrooke, Killian.”

“So where the bleeding hell is she?” Killian asked heatedly, his worry starting to get the better of him.

David held up the phone. There were two words: WHITE RABBIT. “When I was looking for Snow and Emma,” David said, “I inquired after Jefferson, known to some as the Mad Hatter. I remembered – or rather _David_ remembered – reading about him as a kid. The story also talked about a white rabbit. Killian, I think Emma's in Wonderland.”

Killian suddenly felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd been to Wonderland only once in his travels and it was not a place to which he'd ever wished to return. It was there that he'd met Cora in the first place; she was the Queen of Hearts. When she found out what he'd come there to do, she'd nearly taken his own heart, until he'd managed to strike a bargain with her. It was where her powers were strongest. And after their escape from the Enchanted Forest, it made sense that she would go there to recover. But she never forgot a slight or a betrayal. When Killian saved Emma's life that night in the Forest, he'd set all this in motion. This was his fault.

“Killian?” David asked.

“I did this,” Killian said. “This is happening because of me.”

“Why? Because you defied Cora back in our land? She's _deranged_ , Killian. There is no one to blame for the actions of a power hungry lunatic. Let's just focus on defeating her and bringing Emma home. What I want to know is how she got here and then got back to Wonderland in the first place. Emma said the portal closed behind you.”

Killian knew of only two ways to cross worlds. But there were no more magic beans, that why Cora needed the wardrobe ashes and compass. Killian thought of something he'd seen in his forced quality time with the giant. He hadn't thought anything of it then, but if Cora was as desperate as he had been to get to Storybrooke, then he wouldn't put anything past her.

“I think I know,” Killian said, darkly.

“You do?”

“Aye, but it does us no good.”

“Why? What is it?”

“The giant had a shriveled, useless bean tied around his neck. I saw it when Emma abandoned me on the beanstalk. But how Cora got it to work is the mystery.”

David looked thoughtful. “Shiveled and useless, huh?” Killian nodded. “There was a place in our land that could restore things that were lost. Lake Nostos. I took on a quest there once. After I defeated the siren, it dried up.”

“Restoring water to a lake would be nothing for a witch as powerful as Cora.”

“I guess we have our answer then. We should get back to Snow and Henry.”

Killian blinked. The calmness with which David spoke appalled him. Emma was out there facing down the most dangerous foe he knew of outside of his Crocodile. And _this_ was how her father reacted? “You're just going to leave Emma to Cora's wrath?” he angrily.

David rounded on Killian, stopping an inch from his face. “I'm going to let that go because we are both worried. She's my daughter, Jones. I am _not_ abandoning her. But we have to come up with a way to get to Wonderland first. Do you understand?”

“Aye.” It was the first time he'd seen the prince truly angry. Suddenly, he understood why people followed him, looked to him for guidance. Killian saw himself reflected in the prince's eyes. Underneath the calm exterior was a ferocious warrior, who would stop at nothing to accomplish his goal, save the people he loved. It was a trait the prince shared with his daughter.

Twenty minutes later, Killian and David returned to the sheriff's station. They'd had to make a stop at David and Snow's house. Killian raised his eyebrows questioningly when David emerged with a small box, but the prince refused to explain. The station was more crowded than when they had left. Granny, Ruby, Archie, all the dwarves, and to Killian's intense annoyance, Regina and August had gathered there.

“Find anything?” Snow asked, as they came into view.

“We did, or rather Killian did,” David said. “Emma isn't in Storybrooke, Snow. Cora took her to Wonderland.”

The uproar that announcement caused was deafening. Everyone spoke at once; no one could make themselves heard. Nearly everyone gathered around David intent on voicing their opinion. David's attempts to calm them went unheeded for far too long for Killian's liking. So he did the only thing he could see to get their attention: he smashed a large pane of glass in Emma's office with his hook. The voices abruptly stopped and over a dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

“That's _enough_ ,” he growled. “The lot of you are no better than a dozen cranky fishwives. While you bicker, Emma is _out there_ with Cora. I've been to Wonderland,” he continued, his eyes flickering to Regina. “That place is dangerous enough without Cora and with her?” He paused to let that sink in.

“You don't think Cora's done something to her?” Snow asked.

A vision of Emma lying dead with the ashes of her heart slipping through Cora's fingers flashed in Killian's head. No, he couldn't let himself think that way. If he did, then he wouldn't be able to focus. And Emma was relying on him, in more ways than one.

“My mother has a flair for the dramatic,” Regina said quietly. “If she does something to Miss Swan, she'll want an audience. But the Captain is right, there isn't much time.”

“But how do we get to Wonderland?” Snow asked. “There's no portal.”

David opened the box and pulled out a beaten and broken hat. Killian's eyes widened slightly. It was the same hat Regina used to send him to Wonderland all those years ago. But it looked a bit worse for wear. “I know you said you couldn't,” David said to Regina, “but you have to try again.”

“I can't,” she replied. “I don't have that kind of power.”

“Rubbish,” Killian scoffed, looking at Regina with hatred. “Emma being out of the way is quite convenient for you, isn't it, your majesty?”

“Are you implying that _I_ had something to do with this?”

“Oh, I'm not just implying. I'm saying it outright.” Killian said, forgetting David's edict about blame. “Cora's obsessed with ingratiating herself back in your life. Ever since you cried over her body, it's all she could bloody talk about.”

Regina stood and stalked toward him. “If you had killed her as I asked, this wouldn't be happening.”

Killian faintly heard the gasp of shock from the others but he ignored it. “It's a might difficult to remove the heart of someone who doesn't _have one_.”

That brought Regina up short. “What? How...how can that be?”

“She removed it before I got to her,” Killian said, shaking his hook in Regina's face. “Nearly got my own crushed for my trouble, after finding out you were planning on double crossing me. Once she knew you wanted her dead, she was determined to kill you first. That was the deal; I got her back to you – feigning death – and she would kill you, but then your bloody tears changed the plan. So tell me again how you had nothing to do with this?”

“Whoa,” Archie cut in. “Let's all calm down a bit. Trying to assign blame isn't going to accomplish anything.”

“Archie's right,” Snow said, stepping between Killian and Regina. Killian saw her eyes dart to Henry and Killian's heart sank. He had completely forgotten the boy. “What's done is done. It's in the past. We have to focus on Emma, on getting her back. Can you two do that?”

Both Killian and Regina nodded. “I meant it though,” Regina said. “I don't know how to fix Jefferson's hat.”

“Is there another way to get there?” Snow asked.

“Afraid not, dearie.”

Killian froze. Rumplestiltskin. White hot anger flashed through him. “And what would you know of it, Crocodile?”

“I wasn't talking to you, pirate.”

As if sensing trouble, David got between them. “Gold, can you fix the hat or not?”

Rumplestiltskin leaned heavily on his cane. “Even if I could, why should I? Your daughter tried to kill me. And for what? To save _that_ ,” he said, gesturing at Killian. “No, I think I like Miss Swan exactly where she is.”

“You're still a coward, Crocodile,” Killian shouted, as he tried to get to the odious man. He didn't care what happened to himself, he just wanted to wipe that self satisfied smirk off Rumplestiltskin's face.

David grabbed Killian and held him back. The prince was stronger than Killian expected though. “Is this what Emma would want?” David hissed. “She's counting on you.” Killian ignored him. They struggled for long seconds, until Killian backed down.

“You may hate me, Rumplestiltskin,” Killian said, trying to regain his composure. “Gods know I hate you. But Emma is the mother of your grandson. Surely that counts for something.” It was the only card he had left to play. As much as he hated it, Rumplestiltskin was the only one with the power to fix his way to Emma. Cora, Regina, Rumplestiltskin...none of it mattered if he lost Emma. If that meant he had to play nice with his Crocodile, then so be it.

Rumplestiltskin looked unsurprised by Killian's announcement. He must have seen Neal at some point. The younger man was nowhere in sight though. Killian wondered briefly if Neal even knew Emma was missing, but then realized he didn't care. Killian was going to be the one to bring Emma back, consequences be damned.

Rumplestiltskin remained motionless. The only sign he gave that he even acknowledged Killian's words were the brief flicker to where Henry was sitting. The tension in the room was high as everyone stared at Rumplestiltskin. “I'll need a fair amount of pixie dust,” he finally said.

“Thank you,” David said.

“I'm not doing this for you, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin shot back. “Any of you. I'm doing it for Henry.”

The dwarves left to gather the town's supply of pixie dust. There wasn't much for any of them to do but wait. Killian shut himself in Emma's office. Since he'd broken the glass, he wasn't _truly_ shutting himself away, but it was the best he could do. He didn't belong with the others. And he couldn't look at Henry. The boy had heard everything; he now knew about some of the things Killian had done in the name of vengeance. What kind of example was that? He'd been a fool to think that he could be any kind of father figure.

Killian looked up when he heard a soft knock on the glass. Henry opened the door and sat in one of the chairs across from Emma's desk. “I want to go with you.”

Killian stared at Henry for a long minute. There was nothing in the boy's gaze that indicated he felt any differently than he did before Killian's outburst with Regina. But how could that be? Finally, he said, “Wonderland is dangerous, Henry. Your mum would flay me alive if I let you anywhere near it.”

“But I want to help!” Henry cried. “Please, Killian. She's my _mom_. I have to do _something_.”

That desire to be proactive – to _do_ something – was one Killian understood. But Emma had commissioned him to keep Henry safe. And he would not be safe in Wonderland. Killian may not ever be fatherly material, but he could do this. For Emma and for Henry. Over Henry's shoulder, Killian saw Snow hovering, a look of sadness and concern on her face. Killian got up and knelt in front of Henry. “You know how you can help, Henry? Storybrooke's going to need tending while Emma's away. Let's see if your grandfather can make you an honorary sheriff to watch over this place until Emma gets back, yeah?”

Henry looked thoughtful. “Do you really think I can?”

“Sure, you could. Nothing to it,” Killian replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“In that case,” Henry said, “you'll need this.” The boy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the compass, the magic compass that Killian and Emma worked so hard to retrieve. _Their first adventure together._ “In my book, it says that the compass is supposed to lead you to your heart's desire. It brought you and my mom together once, maybe it can do it again.”

“The compass was in your book?”

“Yeah. Weird, huh?”

Killian smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “Where I come from, lad, they call that fate.”

He took the compass from Henry and placed in his pocket. Then Henry hugged him tight. Killian wasn't quite prepared for the boy's affection; he swayed slightly on the balls of his feet, but quickly recovered. “You'll find her,” Henry whispered. “I have faith.” Bizarrely, Killian felt tears pricking the back of his eyelids, but he blinked them away. He couldn't afford to show weakness, both for Henry and for himself. The faith that both Emma and her son had in him was extraordinary; Killian just prayed he was worthy of it.

 

 

The first thing Emma noticed when she woke up was the dampness in the air. The air felt heavy, almost like she was underground. She blinked away her sleepiness to try and figure out where she was. It looked like a cave, but in the dim light she couldn't be sure. When she sat up, she heard the faint clanging of chains. Great. She was chained to the wall of a cave in god knows where land. But that wasn't right. Something niggled in the back of her mind; Emma fought through the haze trying to focus. Cora. Whatever the witch had done to her, it was powerful. The last thing she remembered clearly was getting in her Bug to drive to the station. Emma searched her jacket and pockets for any kind of clue. Physically, she appeared to be fine. Nothing broken. Her gun and badge were missing and...yep, her phone. Not that it would do her any good, she highly doubted Cora would take her somewhere with cell service. That's when she remembered.

_Emma was halfway to the sheriff's station when her trusty Bug refused to obey her. She thought was just something wonky with the steering column – she made a mental note to have Gus the mechanic have a look at it – when she tried to pull over. She was close enough to the station that she could walk. But again, the car wouldn't obey her. Emma took her foot off the gas and her hands off the wheel. The car didn't slow down or stop._

“ _Impressive, isn't it?”_

_Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked in the rearview mirror and Smee was staring back at her. Her eyes went wide as a frission of terror and worry rolled down her spine. If Smee was here, then David..._

“ _Your father is fine,” Smee said conversationally, “if that's what your worried about. The Queen has not quarrel with him...yet.”_

_Emma stamped down her fear and forced herself to remain calm. This was no different than any other sticky situation she'd found herself in. Keeping eye contact with Smee, Emma reached for the door handle. The car wasn't going that fast, she should have no trouble diving out the door as long as she remembered to roll with her momentum. But in an awareness that Emma hadn't know he possessed, Smee covered her hand with his and put a knife to her throat._

“ _I wouldn't do that, princess,” he said calmly. “The Queen would hate to lose her prize so soon.”_

_Emma recoiled in disgust, both at the nickname (Killian was the only one who could get away with calling her that) and the idea that she was someone's prize. Changing her tack, she looked at Smee. “The Queen? What does Regina have to do with this?”_

_Smee chuckled, pulling the knife back.“Oh no, not the Evil Queen. Although it is interesting that your first instinct is to think of her. No, I'm acquiring you for the Queen of Hearts.”_

_That couldn't be good. There was more than one queen? Then something clicked her head. Admittedly, Emma's French was rusty (she'd barely passed it in high school) but she was pretty sure that Cora was French for heart. Of course.”The Queen of Hearts?” she asked. “You mean like Alice in Wonderland?”_

“ _I do believe that is this realm's reference for it, yes. I've heard it's a lovely place, although I haven't been myself. The Queen has promised me that will change.”_

_Cora was actually taking her to Wonderland? What on earth could Cora do in Wonderland that she couldn't do here? Unless that was it. The fight in the Forest had weakened her. Maybe Wonderland was the source of her power or something. Emma was still fuzzy on all the ins and outs of this magic crap. Carefully, Emma reached into her pocket. She'd have to do it without looking, but fortunately she was a champion texter. Emma had no intention of allowing Cora to take her anywhere without a fight, but just in case she wanted to leave a clue for her loved ones to follow. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the car come to a stop. When she did, she looked up and saw the docks._

“ _Time to greet Her Majesty.”_

_Emma rolled her eyes and got out of the car. As she did, she dropped her phone on the floor of the Bug and casually kicked it under the seat. She let out a breath when it appeared that Smee hadn't noticed. But Cora was nowhere in sight. Emma saw her chance and took it. She took off running in the opposite direction, but the pavement was uneven and she went sprawling. She rolled, reaching for her gun. Smee was right there and Emma – still on her back – took her shot. It was nearly point blank range, there was no way she could miss. But when the report from her pistol faded, Smee was still standing there unscratched._

“ _Such pitiful replacements for magic in this realm,” said a voice Emma never wanted to hear again._

_Cora stood there, her closed hand outstretched. When the witch opened her fist, all six bullets dropped harmlessly to the ground. “Hello, dear.”_

“ _What do you want, Cora?” Emma spat. Her eyes darted around searching for some opening she could exploit._

“ _Isn't it obvious, dear?”_

“ _About clear as mud from I'm sitting.”_

“ _You and your beloved captain did me a great disservice in the Enchanted Forest,” Cora said. “You must be dealt with before I can reunite with my daughter. She'll thank me.”_

“ _I hate to burst your bubble, lady, but Killian's not here.”_

_Cora smiled. “All in due time, my dear. He needs to be – what is it you say – properly motivated.”_

“ _Motivated for what?”_

“ _To rescue you, of course. And when he fails...he'll beg for death. A death that I will not grant him. No, better he live with the knowledge that he could not save you as he had before. The Savior dead and her paramour emotionally crippled, Henry will have no choice but to return to Regina.”_

_The last time Killian couldn't save someone he went on a three hundred year long quest for vengeance. It blackened his soul and nearly destroyed him. The emotional baggage of that was something she had struggled with the entire time she'd known him; it was at the heart of what kept them apart for so long. She couldn't bear it if he lost himself to the darkness again. So she had to live. She had to find a way out of this and live. For Killian. For Henry. But before she had a chance to even attempt to make a run for it, Cora was bending down, palm outstretched._

“ _Sleep now, dear. It'll all be over soon,” Cora said, then blew powder in her face._

So Cora was luring Killian into a trap. With Emma as bait. And Emma had no doubt that he would come for her. Just as she had gone after him when he'd taken on Gold. They'd gotten lucky with Rumplestiltskin's cowardice. But now Cora was taking no chances; she was rigging the game firmly in her favor. Thankfully, Emma refused to play by Cora's rules. She started tugging on the chains that held her to the wall. Emma pulled every way she could think of as hard as she could but they wouldn't budge. When she examined them closer, she could see the rust fusing the links together. She picked at it, hoping to shake enough of it loose to make another go possible. Every time she heard the smallest sound, she froze. But there was nothing. Either Emma was hearing things or Cora's guards were grossly incompetent. Finally, Emma felt like she'd made enough progress to try again. The pin holding the chains to the wall was loose. Emma braced her right leg against the wall and pulled with all her strength. The chain came free and Emma's momentum set her on her ass. Grumbling, she stood.

Emma examined the cuffs on her wrists for some kind of lock, but there was none. They must have been closed with magic. _Fantastic_ , Emma thought. But she could work with it. All she really needed was to get of that godforsaken cell. She crept up to the bars and peered around. There didn't seem to be anybody around. Strange. Or maybe Cora was just that overconfident. Either way, she still had to pick the lock. Unlike her cuffs, this seemed to be a simple lock with a keyhole. Emma ran back to grab the pin from her chains and returned to the bars. The pin just fit inside. Using a skill she hadn't needed in more time than she cared to remember, Emma worked the tumbler in the lock, hearing a satisfying click when it came free. Slowly, she pushed the door open; when it made no sound, Emma exhaled in relief. She slid the pin in her pocket just in case and moved down the corridor. The makeshift jail was a series of caves that seemed to go on forever; Emma had no idea where she was going. After getting the distinct impression that she was going in circles, Emma found some masonry above her. The foundation of...something. Knowing Cora and remembering the pictures from a battered copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ she'd had as a child, it most likely the Queen's castle. That meant she had to be close, right?

It was worrying that she still hadn't come across anyone. Surely Cora had more minions than just Smee wandering around? Unless they'd all been taken by the curse. Hadn't Jefferson said something about being in Wonderland? And he'd ended up in Storybrooke. But Emma remained on alert all the same. Knowing her luck, Cora had some magical watchdog or something.

Emma rounded a corner and found a staircase. Warily, she started to climb, the color of the masonry getting brighter as she did. Once she was at the top, the floor spread out before in a black and white checkerboard pattern. She looked around and still saw no one. Emma starting crossing the enormous room; there was a door on the other side. She didn't know where it led, but as long it was away she was fine with that. She'd only been in Wonderland for a little while and it was already giving her the creeps. The door opened easily and Emma found herself in another corridor. She hugged the chains close to her body to muffle the sound and made a dash for it. The black and white motif whizzed past her vision as she ran. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw a splash of red. She skidded to a stop several feet past it and contemplated. It was probably nothing and her need to get out of Cora's castle was high. But what good would that do her if she couldn't figure out how to return home? There had to be a way. Cora didn't just appear in Storybrooke unaided, even she wasn't that powerful.

Decision made, Emma went back. The red that she'd seen was the Queen's throne room. A gilded throne sat up high on a dais, the back of it in the shape of a heart. The full length windows had heavy red drapes embossed with more hearts. It didn't look like there was anyone around, least of all Cora. There were statues in the shape of gigantic playing cards on either side of the throne and at all the windows. It was creepy, especially the spears they carried. And statue or not, those spears looked _sharp._ Emma backed away and turned to go. But when she got to the door, her way was blocked by the spears of two of the statues. _They moved_.

“You just couldn't help yourself, could you, dear?”

Emma closed her eyes. Cora. She'd lingered just a hair too long. Damn it.

“I've never really been one for following the rules,” Emma said, turning to face the witch. “Must be genetic.”

“You truly are the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Although if there was any justice, you wouldn't even exist.”

Emma frowned, then it dawned on her. “Oh. Regina. Lady, if that's your idea of justice then you are well and truly cracked. Didn't _you_ kill Regina's true love?”

“I was merely doing what was best for her,” Cora said, calmly. “That boy would have ruined her; she had a much more brilliant future.”

“Shouldn't that be _her_ decision?”

“Regina was hardly more than a child. She was in no state to be deciding things like that!”

“Well yeah, not after you _murdered_ her boyfriend!”

Cora looked confused at the unfamiliar word, but brushed it aside. She advanced toward Emma slowly. “Regina needed me then and she needs me now. She needs her son and I'm going to make sure she gets him back.”

“I will not allow you near _my_ son!”

“I'm afraid you won't have a choice, my dear,” Cora said softly. She was inches from Emma now. “I had preferred to wait until your lover arrived, but your obstinacy has left me with no choice.” With a maniacal grin, Cora plunged her hand into Emma's chest. The pain was excruciating. Was this what Killian had felt?

Killian. Henry. Mary Margaret. David. She was never going to see them again. Never be able to hold them again; tell them how much she loved them. She had just gotten her family back and now she was going to lose them. Emma closed her eyes; the image of her loved ones seared into her eyelids. She refused to give Cora the satisfaction of being the last thing she saw in this world.

Emma felt Cora's fingers wrap around her heart. She waited for it to be ripped from her chest, but all she felt was a tug. Then another. And another. Her chest jerked several more times with increasing pressure. Curious, Emma opened her eyes. Cora's hand was still in her chest, but so was Emma's heart.

“What?” Cora said, bewildered.

“Trouble, your majesty?” Emma gritted out, her hands on Cora's trying to get the witch to release her.

“But how can this be?” Cora cried, still tugging.

“I guess you don't know everything about magic,” Emma said. As she said the word magic, a pulse emanated from the center of her chest. It forcefully threw Cora across the room; the witch's hand still empty. Cora hit one of the large statutes with a thud and fell limply to the floor.

Emma stood there, breathing heavily and completely dumbstruck. She put her right hand over her heart; it beat loudly under her fingers. What the hell was _that?_ Had that really come from _her?_ It looked like the same kind of pulse that washed over Storybrooke when she'd broken the curse. But it couldn't be, right? It made no sense. Unless she...no way. There was _no way_ Emma had magic. It was impossible. She was just a normal girl. OK, a normal girl whose parents hailed from Fairy Tale Land, but still.

Emma didn't really have time to linger. When Cora came to – and Emma was certain she would – the witch would be _pissed._ It was best to put as much distance between her and Cora as possible. With that in mind, Emma ducked under the crossed spears that still blocked the door and ran for it. As she got out into the open air, Emma realized that her chains were no longer clanging. When she looked at her wrists, the cuffs were gone. Thoroughly freaked, Emma skidded to a stop. She examined her wrists carefully, but there was nothing. Her eyes weren't playing tricks on her; the cuffs really were gone.

Emma pushed her confusion about _that_ development aside. She still needed to get the hell out of there. Emma looked up trying to get her bearings. There was another throne off to her left, clearly this was some outside pavilion. A long path stretched out in front of her, leading to something...green? She couldn't be sure but it looked like gigantic hedges from where she stood. It didn't look like a place she wanted to be but what choice did she have? If she stayed, Cora would find her sooner rather than later. She needed to find a way out.

Emma saw more of the statues on either side of the throne. These were armed with swords, however. Emma went over to the one closest to her and tugged on the hilt of the sword. It came free easily. The sword made her feel slightly less exposed. After a deep breath, Emma headed down the path toward the hedges. She just hoped she could find _something_ in there that could help her get home to Henry and Killian. Otherwise, she was screwed.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Killian closed the door to the apartment more forcefully than he intended. His impatience and frustration were definitely getting the better of him and he was taking it out on the door. Well, better that than his Crocodile's face. He'd returned to get a few items for his trip to Wonderland. His satchel was slung over his shoulder and he'd changed his clothes. He was once again dressed as Captain Hook, the most fearsome pirate in all the lands. Cora had taken what was his and he was going to get it back.

“All black once again, Hook?” Regina said, stepping out of the shadows. “Pity. I rather enjoyed your new look.”

Killian eyed her warily. “What do you want, your majesty?”

“You're determined then, I see,” she replied, gesturing to his accoutrements.

“Deadly, Regina.”

“Are you prepared for that? For what your precious Emma will think if you kill my mother?”

Killian paused. What game was Regina playing? He still didn't trust her; keeping Emma away from Storybrooke only played into her hands with Henry, even Killian knew that. And Regina certainly didn't care about _him_. Or Emma, if truth be told.

“Emma accepts who I am, what I am, your majesty. She's no saint herself, as you are well aware. If you'd seen her on that bridge, you'd understand exactly the lengths that we're willing to go for each other. Now if that's all, I have a portal to catch.”

He started to walk away, but Regina grabbed his forearm. “She won't be easy to defeat, pirate.”

“I'm touched by your concern,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Don't patronize me, Hook. My mother is powerful. Why do you think I wanted her dead?”

“And do you still? Want her dead?”

Regina's eyes flickered to the ground then back up. “No. But I am a enough of a realist to know that if you are to return from your quest, then there is no alternative. Besides, Henry would never be safe as long as my mother lives.”

And for Regina, Killian realized, it really did come down to that. She cared about Henry above all else; there was little the Queen wouldn't do to keep the boy safe. Just as Emma would. Or Killian himself. A common goal then.

Regina rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a sapphire pendant on a long chain. “This will lead you to the vault where she keeps the hearts she's stolen over the years. Hers should be among them, if what you say is true.”

“And how will I know which one is hers?”

“Just follow the pendant.”

Killian took the pendant from her and slipped it around his neck. It got lost among his other jewelry; no one would even notice it was there. Before he could thank her – although Killian honestly wasn't sure if he _should_ thank her – Regina stepped back. “Godspeed, Captain.” And Regina was gone in a cloud of purple smoke.

Killian returned to the sheriff's station soon after. The crowd hadn't really dispersed much; now Jefferson had been added to their ranks and the Crocodile was nowhere to be seen. There were weapons lying on both of the outer desks, much to Killian's chagrin. The last thing they needed was for half of Storybrooke to go barreling into Wonderland, swords drawn. Killian rapped his hook on the now empty window frame with his hook. Silence fell.

As he looked at all the determined faces, he was at a loss at what to say. Everyone in that room cared about Emma. But Killian knew that she wouldn't want such a fuss to be made about rescuing her. In fact, she was probably working on a way to get back to them as they were to find her. She was resourceful like that. This was something he had to do alone...well nearly alone.

“I'm assuming the rules of the hat still apply, Hatter?” he asked, looking directly at Jefferson.

Jefferson nodded. “As far as I know. I mean, I haven't tested it. Not that you're ever getting me to set foot in Wonderland again.” The man rubbed his neck nervously.

“What rules?” Snow asked.

“However many enter the hat, the only the same number can return.”

“Which means...oh.”

“Someone would be left behind if we are to bring Emma home,” Killian said.

“Isn't there a way around it?” David asked.

Jefferson held up his hands. “I don't make the rules, your highness. The hat does. And I've learned not to argue with its power.”

David growled in frustration. “How did you do it last time, Killian?”

“Ah, Regina provided me with some...ballast, as it were,” he replied, careful of Henry sitting next to his grandmother.

“Can't we do that this time?”

“Do you have a corpse lying about, your highness?”

“Damn it, Hook!” David shouted. “This is no time for your attitude!”

Snow reached out for her husband. “David. Please. Arguing isn't helping.”

“So what do we do?”

Killian spoke first, careful to keep his expression neutral. This had to be handled delicately. “I'm going...alone.”

“ _What?”_ Henry gasped. “You can't! You won't be able to get back.”

“Emma would never allow you to be stranded in Wonderland, Killian,” Snow said. “You know that.”

“Well, I won't let any of you be stranded there on our behalf. Every single one of you has a life here, loved ones.”

“What about me?” Henry asked in a small voice. Killian was surprised to see the boy near tears.

“Henry,” Killian started to say, but got cut off by August. “You're not going alone, Captain,” August announced. Well, that took less time than Killian had expected.

“Pinocchio,” Archie began. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

August nodded. “I'm sure. I messed up...a lot. Caused so much damage. I see that now. I thought at the time...well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong. You were right, Captain. You are what she needs. If I can help bring both of you back, then I will.”

“But Gepetto...” Archie said.

“For a long time, I wasn't the son he deserved. Now...maybe this will make him proud. Tell him that for me, will you?”

“Of course.”

Killian knew he needed to say...something. Of all the people in that room who cared about Emma, August was the last one Killian expected to step up, especially given their brief but unpleasant history. Maybe Killian had misjudged the puppet. He was about to say something appropriately grateful and conciliatory, when August began to glow. A bright white light enveloped him, nearly everyone had to close their eyes against it. When Killian opened his eyes, August stood before him, flesh and blood. A puppet no longer. August was looking at his hands in disbelief.

“August!” Henry cried. “The Blue Fairy! She turned you back!” Henry leaped off his chair and caught August in a bear hug.

“Looks that way,” August said in disbelief.

Killian wasn't really sure what that meant, but decided it really wasn't any of his business. A flesh and blood August would be a damn sight easier to travel with than the puppet version. He let the others have their minute with August, Henry in particular. Killian was unsurprised when Snow broke off from the group and came over to him.

“You really would have gone by yourself?” she asked.

“If it had come to that, yes.”

“But you had a plan, didn't you?”

“I can see where your daughter gets her perceptiveness from, your highness.”

Snow looked over at August. “I can't say I approve of your methods, Killian, but I understand. I appreciate your effort in keeping my family together. Clearly August's sacrifice did not go unnoticed either.”

“He wouldn't have been my first choice, truth be told,” Killian said quietly. “But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't grateful. The thought of sending Emma back alone...”

Snow rested a hand on his left arm. “I know. Back in the forest...she tried to send us on without her. On the beanstalk. Emma asked Mulan to cut the beanstalk down if you hadn't returned in ten hours. I was furious...and hurt.”

“That's why she was in such a hurry,” Killian said, smiling to himself.

“Yes, well, if I'd have lost her after just getting her back...I see why you did that just now. Whoever got left had to know what they were signing up for. Emma won't be happy about it, you know.”

Killian frowned. He did know. And he felt guilty about it. But what choice did he have? Emma would never leave Wonderland if he couldn't come back with her. Not willingly. And he didn't want to abandon her like so many had. She was all he had left. And he was a selfish bastard, he knew that. He wasn't about to give her up without a fight. If there truly was no alternative, Killian would sacrifice himself for her in a heartbeat. Was it so terrible to exhaust every possibility before it came to that?

“It's OK,” Snow said, sensing his conflict. “This will stay between us. Just do me a favor, Killian.”

“What's that, your highness?”

“Bring her back to me. By whatever means necessary,” Snow said, pointedly.

Killian looked down at the princess. He knew her to be brave, resourceful, intelligent. Snow understood what she was saying. If the death of Cora was required, then the benevolent Snow White was willing to take that step. And since Snow couldn't could go herself, she was giving Killian permission to do what needed to be done.

“You have my word.”

“Be careful, Captain,” Snow said. “I've grown quite fond of you, you know.”

Before Killian could reply, David appeared. “Everything OK?”

Snow smiled reassuringly. “Everything's fine, Charming. Is everything ready? I'd like my daughter back sooner rather than later if it's all the same to you, Captain.”

That was a sentiment that Killian wholeheartedly agreed with. August appeared carrying a sword and a bow. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder.

“Do you actually know how to use those?” Killian asked.

August shrugged. “It's been a while, but yeah. Should be like riding a bike, right?” He paused, seeing Killian's confused expression. “Anyway, not all of us have weapons attached,” he continued, nodding at Killian's hook.

For the first time since meeting the puppet, Killian laughed. “Indeed.”

“If you gentlemen are ready,” Jefferson cut in. The Hatter looked around. “I think it would be best if everyone stepped back. Like a _healthy_ step back.” The group – save Killian and August – did as he asked. Jefferson kneeled over the hat and sent it spinning. The small hat spun quickly, expanding its circumference to ten times its normal size. It was now big enough for at least three grown men to jump through. “Remember,” Jefferson yelled, over the roar of the portal. “Only the same number who go through can return. Good luck.”

Killian took one last look at David, Snow and Henry. The elder Charmings were holding their grandson tightly. Henry smiled at Killian, giving him a thumbs up sign. Killian wasn't sure what that meant, but he assumed it was good. He nodded at the boy in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Then he looked at August, who appeared a tad green around the gills.

“Ready?”

August looked from the swirling portal to Killian. He gulped. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Killian jumped into the abyss. He heard rather than saw August follow him. The drop lasted longer than Killian remembered from the last time he'd traveled by magic hat. It suddenly occurred to him that Rumplestiltskin could have done something to sabotage the hat; he cursed under his breath for not thinking of it sooner. Damn Crocodile. But just as he was about to curse every god he'd ever heard of, the fall stopped. Killian landed with a thud on the floor of the Room of Portals. It was just as he'd remembered from his first trip to Wonderland. Killian stood, brushing himself off when August landed gracelessly next to him.

“A little warning next time?” August grumbled as he got to his feet.

“I take it you've never traveled by magic hat before?”

August rolled his eyes. “Magic wardrobe that opened into a tree? Yeah. Hat? Not so much.” The puppet looked around the room, his eyes going wide as he took in their surroundings. “Each of these goes to a different land?”

“So I've been told.”

“Where's that one go?” August asked, pointing at a doorway that had a green curtain fluttering in it.

“Don't rightly know,” Killian replied, annoyed. They didn't have time for August's curiosity. “But it's not the one we want.”

“Let me guess,” August said. “The looking glass?”

“Not as thick as you look, are you?”

“Watch it, Hook.”

Killian smiled. He was grateful for August's sacrifice, but he couldn't help but needle the puppet. Just a little. Besides, it helped dodge the rather large elephant in the room. “Shall we?”

August nodded. Killian walked over to the looking glass and stepped through it. August followed him a second later. Wonderland looked nearly identical to Killian's last visit. The road to the Queen's castle stretched out in front of them, the hedgerow maze in the distance. Huge mushrooms – some nearly twice as tall as a man – lined the road. Killian looked for that bleeding Cheshire Cat, but it was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh my god,” August muttered. He reached out for one of the smaller mushrooms almost in a trance, until Killian grabbed his hand.

“Not so fast, mate,” Killian warned. “Those mushrooms are unlike anything from our world.” Although which world – Storybrooke or the Enchanted Forest – Killian wasn't sure he was referring to. In the end it didn't matter, really. “A piece from any of these will cause you to...change.”

“Change? How?”

“Well, not turn you back if that's what you're worried about. No, these change your size. Bigger or smaller depending on which one you take.”

“I take it that's bad?”

“Could be. Plus robbing the Queen of her precious bounty is the fastest way to draw her guards down on us.”

“Thanks for the warning then.”

Killian nodded and pulled out the compass. He wasn't sure it would work, but it couldn't hurt. And Henry had such faith. Killian concentrated on Emma. There was nothing his heart desired more than to see her again. For long seconds, nothing happened. Then the dial spun rapidly and came to a stop. It pointed to the northwest, toward a dark corner of the maze. Was she really in _there_? From what Cora had told him about the maze...he just hoped she was armed. It would be like Cora to send Emma into a place like that defenseless.

“What is it?” August asked. Killian wondered what his face must look like.

“How's your archery?”

“Not good, why?”

“Because we're going in there,” Killian said, pointing at the maze.

August gulped. “Are you sure Emma's in there? Couldn't it be trap or something?”

Killian turned and faced him. “Aye, it's probably a trap. But the compass says that's where she is. So unless you have a better idea...”

“Maze it is, then. Lead on, Captain.”

Killian put the compass away and pulled out his sword. He and August walked side by side down the long road toward the maze. As they went Killian noticed a faint blue light stretching out in front of him. He looked over at August to see if he noticed it, but the puppet gave no sign. His eyes were darting around nervously, looking for some threat. Belatedly, Killian realized it must be the sapphire pendant. As they entered the maze, Killian froze. The blue trail pointed east, the opposite of where Emma was. Killian got out the compass, just to make sure. Emma to the left, Cora's heart to the right.

“Hook?” August asked, finally noticing that Killian had stopped.

He shook his head and looked at August. What should he do? Killian considered having them split up, but he wasn't sure his magical talismans would work for August. Surely they could find Cora's heart after they found Emma, right? It was a risk he _had_ to take. Every minute he didn't know where she was was agonizing. Decision made, he caught up to August.

“It's nothing,” he said, sternly. “Let's go.”

 

 

Emma didn't consider herself an outdoorsy person. Sure, she loved the ocean, but trees and flowers and bushes? Not so much. Between the Enchanted Forest and this infernal maze, Emma had gotten her fill to last several lifetimes. Emma was covered in tiny scratches from the surprisingly sharp hedges. What kind of bush _cut_ you? After finding more dead ends than she cared to admit, Emma had tried hacking through some of them, but that turned out to be a bad idea. As fast as she cut through it, it seemed to grow back. So she was forced to go back to navigating the maze the old fashioned way. Even more frustrating was that she'd found nothing that could help her get home. She knew the longer she stayed here the more time Killian would have to find a way to get here.

And the bushes weren't the only things that attacked her. There were a myriad of creatures that blocked her path. It was like something out of a Harry Potter book. She half expected a Sphinx to show up. Or a giant spider. She'd also run into a couple of the Queen's statue guards, but she'd taken care of them. Barely. She hadn't run into anything for a while now though, which was worrying; she saw a light at the end of her current path and broke into a run. The vengeful bushes thinned out into a courtyard for a small cottage. Well, small by Wonderland standards. It looked old, like no one had lived there for a long time. Cautiously, Emma pushed open the door and went inside.

The door opened up into a landing, most of the actual structure appeared to go under ground. There was just enough light getting through the dirty windows for Emma to find her footing. When Emma started down the stairs, she kicked something accidentally. She bent to pick it up. It was covered in dust, but it was clearly a hat. A purple bowler hat to be precise. Emma looked to her left. Piles upon piles of hats – of all shapes, sizes and colors – cluttered the floor and tables. _No,_ she thought, _it can't be._ Emma raced down the rest of the stairs and looked around. She shifted hats around searching for something – anything – that could confirm her suspicions. Finally under a half made hat, Emma found it. It was a rude sketch of a little girl, a child who looked eerily like Grace. Jefferson. He really _was_ the Mad Hatter. Not that she'd doubted that fact since breaking the curse, but _knowing_ and _understanding_ were two different things.

She remembered Jefferson's desperation, believing that she could get the hat to work. She'd made half a dozen hats that night, but none of them did anything. But that was before magic returned to Storybrooke. Her hand rested against her chest. If that pulse had been what she thought it was...it couldn't hurt to try it, right? Emma looked around, trying to find a hat that looked like the one Jefferson had. On a pile across the room laid a black top hat. Emma grabbed it and studied it. It looked ordinary enough to her. She concentrated on it, willing it to do...something. She even spun it on the table as she'd seen Regina do, but nothing happened. Damn. Maybe Emma wasn't magical after all. The idea was pretty ridiculous.

Emma tossed the hat aside, grabbed her sword and went back up the stairs. There was nothing there that could help her either avoid Cora or get home. And she'd lingered long enough as it was. Emma went back out into the open air, looking sadly at the maze. She didn't know how much longer she could keep going. She hadn't eaten or slept properly in...well, she couldn't remember, actually. How long ago was that phone call from Belle? One day? Two? It was impossible to tell. Emma was already running on fumes and it didn't appear that she was going to get any respite in the near future. But what choice did she have? Squaring her shoulders, Emma tightened her grip on the sword and headed back into the maze.

Emma quietly stalked her way through the maze. She made a couple of left turns, hoping it would lead toward the center of the maze. If she could find the middle, then maybe she could find a way out. She got to another dead end and growled in frustration.

“Damn it!” she cried, louder than she intended, kicking a a stone on the ground for good measure. Then she abruptly clapped her hand over her mouth. Sound was the surest way to draw whatever was in the maze straight to her. And she'd forgotten. She needed to move. _Now._

Emma went right, then right again. After about ten feet, she heard voices. Emma froze. It couldn't be. No, her mind had to be playing tricks on her. She'd spent too much time communing with nature. Then she heard it again.

“ _What_ are you on about you infernal puppet?”

“You didn't hear that?”

“A little louder, if you please,” the voice that could be none other than Killian's hissed. “Tell me, are you _trying_ to lead Cora right to us?”

Emma didn't catch the response. It didn't sound like Killian and his companion (seriously, who'd drawn _that_ gig?) were too far away. Emma started to move in that direction then stopped. What if it was Cora trying to trick her? She'd already done that once with David. Emma couldn't risk being fooled like that again. Especially if it were Cora pretending to be Killian. That would be beyond cruel. So Emma waited, sword at the ready.

There was a commotion off to Emma's left. She recognized the now tell tale signs of the playing card statues. A lot of them. Fear trickled down Emma's spine as she cast about for an escape route. She looked left then right, trying to decide which way to take. _Screw it_ , she thought as she moved right. Emma rounded the corner when she realized that the sounds were moving _past_ her. Oh god. Killian. If it even was Killian. She didn't have time to weigh her options. Her gut told it was and he was about to get jumped by who knew how many of those damn statues and their very sharp spears. And she couldn't scream to warn him. If she did, they'd be on her as well and they'd _both_ be screwed. So Emma ran. She ran through the maze, trying to use the sounds to guide her. But in her near blind panic, she took a wrong turn. Then another. The sounds were getting _further_ away instead of closer. It was almost as if the maze had a mind of its own. Emma heard the ring of swords clashing and ran faster, her legs burning with the effort. There was incoherent shouting and grunting. She turned around, suddenly face to face with one of the statues.

Emma stamped down her panic, trying to focus. The key, she'd discovered, was disarming them. Once they were without their weapon, they turned back into immobile stone. She raised her sword, looking for an opening. Seeing none, she did the next best thing: she charged. Emma swung her sword to the left hoping to snap the shaft of the spear in two. But the statue parried her blow expertly. Emma raised the sword again, this time sparks shot out at her as the sword clashed against the metal at the tip of the spear. The statue shoved her back and Emma staggered, falling on her back. The statue loomed over her, the spear point coming closer. Emma took her shot. It was awkward, but she swung the sword above her, parallel to her body, and sheared the end of the spear clean off. The wood of the shaft dropped on top of her, as the stature froze in place, half bent over her. Emma saw it start to sway and rolled. The dust blew into her face as the now frozen statue hit the ground, arms first.

Breathing heavily, Emma staggered to her feet. The sounds from wherever Killian was hadn't stopped. Emma grabbed her sword again and ran. Well, she tried to. Her lungs burned, her muscles burned, her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. The adrenaline from her fight with the statue was quickly fading. But then she heard a scream. Killian's scream. Emma opened her mouth to yell, then abruptly closed it. She would do him no good if she got caught too; she'd gotten lucky with the statue just now. Emma moved toward the sound, slower this time. She _had_ to pay attention to where she was going.

The sounds changed. No longer could she hear a fight. Now she heard the statues moving off, away from her. Her stomach dropped, fearing the worst. What if she was too late? Emma forced herself to keep going toward the shuffling of the statues. She rounded a corner and stopped. There were clear signs of a fight. Bits of the hedges were everywhere. There was a a discarded bow and quiver laying on the ground near her feet. Worst of all, there was a small puddle of blood a dozen feet from where she stood. She knew without thinking it was Killian's. Emma went over to it and knelt down. It didn't look like a life threatening amount...yet. But there was a trail the led away from it; if he kept bleeding...

Emma shook her head. No way was she just letting him die. Judging from the trail it looked like the statues were taking him back to the Queen's castle. Emma went back to get the bow and quiver. She counted four arrows left undamaged as she slung it over her shoulder. She'd never used a bow, but maybe since she was Snow White's daughter something would rub off. She had to try.

Grimly, Emma followed the trail. After a little while, she turned a corner, then immediately went back. She'd caught up to her prey. Emma poked her head around, watching. She saw Killian slung over the very awkward shoulder of one of the statues. Blood trailed down the back of the statue, but Killian was unconscious. Then she noticed who had come to Wonderland with him. It was August; his eyes were closed. She couldn't believe it; he was flesh and blood once again. How had that happened? Emma didn't really have a chance to mull it over, because the statues were moving again. She trailed them silently. Then to Emma's horror, August opened his eyes and they locked with hers. Quickly, Emma put a finger to her lips, praying he would get her silent message. To her relief, he did, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Emma was more careful after that. She stayed a good fifty feet back from the party of statues. She noticed to her relief that the blood trail started lightening, then stopped altogether. As helpful as it was, she didn't want Killian to bleed out or anything. Besides, she was close enough now that it was doubtful she'd lose them. Finally, Emma saw where they were headed. The Queen's outside pavilion that she'd passed earlier. When they came to a stop, Emma pressed her back up against the hedge. She needed to remain unseen for as long as possible. She heard Killian and August getting dropped to the ground and winced. Then Killian groaned; he was conscious. There was a blare of trumpets and Smee announced the arrival of Her Majesty, the Queen of Hearts. Emma rolled her eyes.

Emma turned around, facing the hedge. She parted a few branches with her fingers; she needed to see what was going on.

“I'm so delighted you've come, Captain,” Cora said, her voice dripping with glee. “We've been expecting you.”

“Sod off, Cora. Where's Emma?” Killian spat back at the witch, holding his side. There was blood on his fingers.

“Now, now, Captain. There's no need for that. We were allies once, yes?”

“We were never _allies_ , Cora. You were a means to an end. Nothing more.”

Cora grimaced. “Yes, you chose _her_ _ **.**_ Now you face the consequences of that decision.”

“I'd do it again in a heartbeat,” Killian said defiantly. “Do your worst to me, just let Emma return home to her son.”

“Henry belongs with his real mother, Regina,” Cora replied, stepping down off her throne and approaching Killian. “And I'm going to get him back for her.”

Emma saw Killian glance down at his chest, but she had no idea why. As Cora approached, Emma felt her fingers tighten around the bow in her hands. If she was going to do something, it would have to be soon. As quietly as she could Emma drew an arrow from the quiver and knocked it. Then she turned her back to the hedge, preparing to fire.

“And how are you going to do that?” Killian asked. _Keep her talking, Killian,_ Emma thought.

“By getting rid of the Savior, naturally. And you're going to help me, my dear Captain.”

Emma never heard Killian's retort, because she stepped out from behind the bush and raised her bow. Remembering Mary Margaret in the forest, Emma drew her right arm back as far as she could and released the arrow. It whizzed past Cora's head. A miss, but all in all not bad for a first shot, really. In the end it did its job, it got Cora's attention. The witch screamed at her guards, but Emma was prepared. She ducked and rolled under two of the statues as they charged her. She landed near August first and used her sword to cut him free. As soon as he was free, Emma parried the blow of an oncoming spear. She heaved herself to a standing position and seemed to move on automatic pilot. Somehow she disarmed two more of the statues, while August ran for a sword. He stood with his back to her as four more statues closed in on them.

“You've got to disarm them,” she whispered to August.

“Yeah, we figured that out,” he said under his breath.

“On the count of three?”

“One.”

“Two.”

The next beat they both moved. Emma hacked at the hand of the statue closest to her. When it released the spear it was carrying, she cut it in half. Then Emma spun and kicked the other one right in the middle, shattering the wood into a thousand splinters. As the statue froze in front of her, Emma did the same, a pain in her chest. Before her was a sight that haunted her nightmares.

Cora stood there triumphantly with her hand in Killian's chest.

Emma lowered her sword to the ground and stepped away from it. “Let him go, Cora. Please.”

“Now why would I do that? I was looking forward to killing you myself, but this is almost better. Have your beloved end your life, completely unable to stop himself. Has a certain poetry, does it not?”

“No!” Killian gritted out. “I won't do it.”

“I'm afraid you won't have a choice, dear.” Killian's face contorted with pain as Cora squeezed his heart.

“NO!” Emma screamed, reaching out for him. She felt a tug in her chest and looked at Killian with wide eyes. Cora's hand was still buried in his chest. She was trying desperately to pull it back, but it wouldn't budge. Disbelieving, Emma ran to his side and wrapped her arms around him, facing Cora who stared her with pure hate.

“What is this magic?” Cora whined. “I don't understand.”

Emma looked up at the witch, as she held Killian close. She had no idea what was happening either, she wasn't about to let Cora know that. So she improvised. “I love him, your majesty. Something you could _never_ understand.”

“But love...is...weakness,” Cora said, still trying to pull Killian's heart from his chest.

“No, love is strength.”

Once again, that pulse emanated from her chest, sending Cora flying. How did she keep doing that? But they didn't have time to wonder, the three of them needed to go. Now.

“Come on, Killian,” Emma muttered, as he stood there still shocked from what had just happened.

“But what did you do?” Killian asked. “Was that...”

“Magic? Um, maybe? Look, we really don't have time...”

Killian grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was. That.”

“I don't know, OK? It happened earlier when Cora tried to take my heart.”

“She did _what?_ ”

“Tried to take my heart, like Gold did yours? But she failed. Something...shot out of me and sent her flying across the room. I didn't question it, I just got the hell out of there.”

Killian pressed his hand to her heart. It beat rapidly in her chest. “You're magical, Emma,” he said, in awe.

“The jury's still out on that one, I think. Look, I don't know how long she's gonna be out, we need to go.” She paused. “How did you guys get here anyway?”

“Jefferson's hat,” August informed her, returning her sword.

“Can we get back that way?” Emma saw the men look at each other, uncomfortably. There was something they weren't telling her.

“There's something we have to do first,” Killian said.

“What's that?”

“There's only one way to end this. We have to find Cora's heart and destroy it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major character death.

“So how do we do this?” Emma asked.

After sending Cora flying off again, the three of them – Emma, Killian and August – headed back into the maze. Briefly, the men had filled her in on what happened since Cora and Smee had snatched her. A few harsh words, a couple of even more unlikely alliances and here they were – come to rescue her, like she was the proverbial damsel. Which was ridiculous, of course. She knew the Killian didn't see her that way. Moving heaven and earth to come after her...well, that's just how he was wired. He _had_ spent the last three hundred or so years trying to avenge his last love. The idea of him just doing nothing was out of the question. And as much as Emma worried about him, she was profoundly glad he was there. That he didn't abandon her. After spending her whole life fending for herself, it was comforting to know that someone would look for her if she were lost. Would miss her if she were gone. Would take on the most evil witch in all the realms to get her back. Sappy? Probably. But Emma was the physical embodiment of true love. If anyone was entitled to sappy, it was her, right?

“Ask Hook,” August was saying. “I didn't really get the run down on the whole 'kill Cora' part of the plan.”

Emma looked at Killian expectantly. He let go of her hand – which he had been clutching since they left the pavilion – and reached for his mismatched jewelry. Slowly, he pulled out a sapphire blue pendant and held it up to the light.

“According to Regina, this should lead us to where Cora's heart lies.”

“And do we trust Regina?” Emma asked.

“Do we have a choice?”

Emma sighed. “Probably not. So how does it work?”

Killian lowered the pendant. “You don't see it?”

“See what, Killian?”

“The blue trail,” he replied, gesturing out in front of him.

Emma looked down, then forward. Sure enough, there was a faint blue trail stretching out in front of Killian. “Whoa, that is freaky.”

“I don't see it,” August said.

“You don't?” Emma asked. “What's that about?”

“Well,” August said, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking.“Regina gave Killian the pendant, right? And you just...did whatever it was you did, saving his life. Maybe you're magically connected now? Like a True Love thing?”

Emma stared at August, a very bad feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.“Whoa, who says I have magic?” she said, uncomfortable.

“Emma, darling, you just knocked Cora into next week with a simple word,” Killan pointed out.

“That's so not what happened.”

“Well, what was it then?”

Emma looked from Killian to August, desperately trying to will this conversation to end. Not only out of confusion, but fear. Twice now Emma had forced Cora away from her with some kind of invisible force. And prevented the witch from taking both hers and Killian's hearts. Not only was she completely at a loss as to _how_ she had done it, but she was afraid of what it could mean. She'd seen how magic affected people. Almost everyone she knew who had magic were evil, or in evil rehab. What was it they said about absolute power? Emma didn't want that. Power like that. She was terrified of what it could do to her.

“Emma?”

Emma looked furiously at Killian. “I don't _know_ , alright? I don't know what happened! All I know is that she was trying to take your heart and _I felt it_. Felt it here,” she continued, hand to her heart. “And it was just like when she'd tried to take mine, a tugging sensation. But for some reason, she couldn't take it and then...she got thrown back by...something,” she finished lamely.

“Emma, love,” Killian said, placing his hand over hers, “that was _you_. I don't know what it was that you did, but it came from you. And it was powerful. More powerful than anything else I've ever seen.”

“But how? It doesn't make sense.”

“Oh, I think it does,” he replied, a small smile gracing his lips. “You're True Love personified. It's no wonder that you'd be magical. It's the most powerful magic there is.”

“I don't feel very powerful.”

“Rubbish.”

“Hook's right, Emma,” August cut in. “I've seen a lot of magic and what you did back there...it's important. It's why you had to be the one to break the curse.”

Emma stepped back from Killian; she needed to think. “So let's say you're right. That I do have magic. Why couldn't I get the hat to work? If I really were magical, stuff like that should work for me, right?”

“What hat?”

Briefly, Emma explained finding Jefferson's house in the maze. When she finished, August said, “Magical talismans are tricky, Emma. You really need to know what you're doing. Plus it's possible that Jefferson's hat is a one of a kind item.”

“The Crocodile needed all the fairy dust in Storybrooke to repair it,” Killian observed.

“See? It probably had nothing to do with you,” August informed her. “Try something.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Killian said, pulling back his coat to reveal the bloody hole in his shirt and vest, “this stings a fair bit.”

“And you want me to what? Heal you? No freaking way! I have no idea what I'm doing! And I still think both of you are _nuts._ ”

Killian let go of his coat and took her hand again. “Emma, love, you can do this. I know you can.”

Emma looked down at his still bloody fingers grasping her own tightly. She drew strength from the contact. Killian believed in her. He saw her in a way no one else ever did. He saw _her_ , Emma Swan, the woman with the shady past, the trust issues, the wall a mile high, and the freaky fairy tale origins. And he didn't flinch. He was always there – annoyingly, persistently, determinedly, even when she didn't want him to be. If he thought she could do this, then maybe she could. She owed it to him to try.

“OK, I'll try,” she told him, glancing up into those blue eyes of his. “But don't say I didn't warn you, if you get turned into a toad or something.”

“I'll consider myself duly warned, love.”

Emma let go of Killian's hand and pulled back his coat. Killian took it from her, so she could focus on his wound. She knelt down and examined him. The blood made it difficult, but it didn't look life threatening. The spear seemed to have missed the major organs. In the real world, it definitely looked like he would need stitches though. Clearly not an option at the moment. She felt way more confident in her ability to stitch him back up with thread than with magic. _Focus, Emma._

“The Blue Fairy once told me that magic is fueled by your emotions, Emma,” August said quietly. “Focus on that and you should be fine.”

Emma looked from the bloody wound to Killian's face. He smiled at her reassuringly. “Go on, love.” Emma took a deep breath and placed her right hand over the wound. Nothing happened. Emma frowned and focused on Killian. On how much she loved him, their family back in Storybrooke, on how much Henry needed them to return. Suddenly, Emma felt her hand grow warm, little electric sparks shot across the palm of her hand and it started to glow. It lasted for mere seconds then it was gone. Emma pulled her hand away and saw the perfect patch of skin below Killian's bloody shirt.

“Wow,” she muttered.

She was still staring when Killian yanked her up and hugged her. He even spun her around for good measure. “Is this an inappropriate time to say 'I told you so'?” he asked, as he put her down.

“Well done, Emma,” August said, grinning as well.

Emma found herself smiling as well. “This is all fine and good, but we should probably get going. Cora's going to be up and about sooner rather than later.”

“I'm surprised her stone monstrosities have come after us yet,” Killian observed, as they started following the blue trail once more.

“The same thing happened when I knocked her out the first time. I think they're linked to her. If she's unconscious, they're useless.”

“That makes sense,” August said.

“As much as any of this magic stuff does.”

“Emma, we all come from a world full of magic. I think it's just something you're going to have to get used to.”

“Doesn't mean I have to like it,” she shot back. Despite her success, Emma was still seriously freaked. For someone who was raised in a world without magic, suddenly faced with the prospect of being a serious magical player was frightening. Hell, there were still days she was half convinced all this was a majorly weird dream and she would wake up alone in her old Boston apartment. Since Henry had found her, her entire life had been turned upside down. Everything she'd ever believed had been shaken and tossed out the window. She was not an orphan, but the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White. She was friends with Little Red Riding Hood and her Granny. Pinocchio was tasked with looking out for her. Her son had been raised by the Evil Queen. And she, Emma Swan, was in love with Captain Hook. Boston!Emma would have taken one look at her and had her committed to the looney bin. So yeah, the whole magic thing was going to take some getting used to. Emma hoped she'd be forgiven for maintaining a smidge of skepticism.

They were all quiet after that. Which was a good idea in any event since Cora could wake up any minute and send her playing card statues after them again. Steadily, they followed the trail. It seemed to be leading them to the center of the maze. An obvious place for a vault of hearts, Emma thought, but given the probable magical nature of the maze, it was unlikely they'd find it on their own. Emma herself had wandered the maze for hours and had only gotten more and more lost for her trouble.

Emma's stomach growled loudly. It reminded her of just how hungry she was and how long she'd been gone. Emma groaned inwardly at the noise, knowing it was the last thing they needed at the moment. She'd just have to suck it up and deal.

“When was the last time you ate, sweetheart?” Killian asked quietly.

Emma shrugged. “Not sure. How long have I been gone?”

“A little over a day,” he replied.

“That's not so bad then. I'm okay.”

“Speak for yourself, love. It was the longest day of my life.”

That brought Emma up short. “Sorry, I didn't mean...”

“I know what you meant. Here,” he said, reaching into his satchel. He pulled out a sandwich and handed it to her. “Snow made these before we left.” It was ham and turkey, her favorite.

Emma accepted it gratefully. “Thank god it's not chimera,” she muttered as she dug in. It tasted heavenly. She wished for something to wash it down with, but there was no time. Emma polished it off quickly as they walked. She was so distracted with her food that she didn't see August stop in front of her.

“Bloody hell,” Killian muttered.

“What is it?” Emma asked, immediately on the alert. But when she looked up, she clearly saw what had stopped them. Suspended in midair in the between the hedges was the Cheshire Cat.

It looked nothing like the Disney version. That cat had purple stripes and yellow eyes. This cat appeared to be an ordinary orange tabby cat, although it was slightly larger than any cat Emma had ever seen. And that was aside from the huge grin and floating in midair thing. It was a testament to all the strange things Emma had seen recently that she didn't start laughing outright. She'd learned the hard way that the things she once found comforting or amusing about fairy tales in her youth were very, very different in real life.

“We don't have time for your games, Cat,” Killian whispered harshly.

“Games?” the cat replied. “Why I _never_ play games, Captain. You know that. I merely state the truth. It's not my fault if you don't understand it.”

_Okay, so the cat talks. Wonderful,_ Emma thought. “Look...” she trailed off, not knowing exactly how to address a talking cat.

The cat seemed to amused by her confusion. “You may call me Cheshire, your highness.”

How the hell did the cat know who she was? Emma saw Killian bite his lip in an effort not to laugh; he knew full well how Emma felt about her apparent royal status. She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine, Cheshire,” she said, turning back to the cat. “I'm Emma. And if you don't mind we are in a bit of a hurry. So could you, you know, _scram_?”

Cheshire's grin only widened. “If only I could, your highness. But there is something you need to know about your quest before I can allow you to continue.”

“What's that?”

“Mirrors are dangerous things, wouldn't you agree, Captain?”

Killian cocked an eyebrow at Cheshire. “What are you on about, you infernal feline?”

“I'd have thought you'd want to bring the princess home in more stately fashion is all.”

“What is he talking about?” Emma asked, looking between Killian and August. They both shrugged, but Emma got the impression once again that there was something they weren't telling her. But they didn't have time, Cora was bound to be on them at any minute.

“Pity,” Cheshire said. He looked again at Emma. “You will find what you need in the place you least expect it. But use them wisely, princess. I fear this will be your only trip to Wonderland.”

With that, Cheshire disappeared with a pop. All except his near maniacal grin. A few seconds later that was gone as well.

“What the hell was _that_?” Emma exclaimed.

“Sodding cat,” Killian muttered. “I hate Wonderland.”

“Yeah, it's not exactly on my list of vacation spots either,” Emma said.

“We should probably go,” August said quietly.

Emma wanted to ask them just what the hell Cheshire was talking about, but knew August was right. Whatever it was they could deal with it later. They had to find the vault and Cora's heart. They rounded the next corner when Emma heard it. The tell tale shuffling of the playing card statues.

“Damn it,” Emma muttered.

“Is that what I think it is?” August said worriedly.

“Yep. Killian?”

Killian drew his sword and nodded. “I don't think it's far now. Let's go.”

Together, the trio ran, Killian leading them. All three had their swords drawn. Emma could hear the statues getting closer. Two lefts and a right and the path opened up, getting wider. They followed it until it stopped. There looming in front of them was Cora's vault. Unfortunately, it was surrounded.

 

_Bloody fantastic_ , Killian thought. Next time he saw that damned cat, he was going to stab it with his hook. Not only did it nearly tell Emma about the looking glass, but it delayed them, allowing Cora to catch up with them. The witch didn't appear to be in sight, but Killian knew that was just a matter of time. He just hoped they could get through before Cora materialized.

“So what do we do now?” Emma asked, at his side. They huddled in a shadowy corner near the exit of the maze.

Killian looked down at the pendant; it pulsed against his shirt. The heart was inside, he could sense it. They just had to break through Cora's guards and he could end this once and for all. He looked back at the guards, assessing. Only a single line of them surrounded the marble vault. But there were more on the way most likely. He turned to Emma and August.

“We've got to get them away from the door,” he said.

“Diversion?” Emma asked. It was as if she'd read his mind; he grinned at her, suddenly proud.

“Too right, lass. Think you and August can manage it?”

Emma nodded. “We got this.” She switched her sword to her left hand and leaned in to kiss him, her right hand briefly caressing his cheek. “Be careful,” she said against his lips.

“You too, love.”

Emma's lips quirked up as she pulled away. Killian nodded at August. Then they stepped out into the small clearing brandishing their swords, as Killian remained huddled in the shadows. It nearly killed him to let Emma leave his side, but he was determined to be the one who destroyed Cora. He wouldn't let Emma deal with that kind of guilt. She was too good; he refused to let her become a killer, even in self defense. Not when he could take that burden on himself.

Killian glanced up; the diversion was in full swing. Emma and August drew off the closest guards, swords swinging through the air madly. These guards – unlike the ones at the castle – carried swords. It was harder to disarm them, but not impossible. August was better, but Emma clearly had the raw skills to be an excellent swordswoman someday. Fortunately, the stone guards were big and clumsy, clearly not designed for this kind of fight. He highly doubted Cora ever intended them to be used for such a purpose. Emma ducked and rolled under one of the guards, taking its feet out from under it at the same time. When it fell, the sword it carried went skittering away. It froze instantly. Emma caught his eye and grinned.

Killian tore his eyes away and looked back at the vault doors. His way was clear. Killian stood and ran for it. Miraculously, he got there unscathed. But then he tried to open the door. It refused to budge. He put his shoulder against it and shoved as hard as he could, but nothing happened. He tried scratching at the lock with his hook, but that failed too. His heart sank as he realized it must be magically sealed. He looked back at Emma and August, who were still fighting.

“Emma!” he called.

She looked over in his direction. Taking advantage of her distraction, one of the statues took at swing at her, but she ducked it at the last second. Straightening, Emma parried and twisted the statue's arms to a ridiculous angle, causing it to drop its sword. Then she turned and ran for Killian.

“What is it?” she panted.

“The door's magically sealed, I think.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Think you can open it?”

Emma looked down at her hand, then back at him. “Cover me,” she ordered.

“Always, love.”

Emma moved past him, examining the door. Killian put his back to her and faced the fight. August was down to the last statue. Once he disarmed it, the puppet dashed for the still closed door.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Magically sealed door,” Emma muttered.

“Oh, is that all? I thought it was something _serious_ ,” August retorted.

“Thin ice, puppet,” Killian growled.

“I think I've earned a little sarcasm, do you, pirate?”

“Play nice, both of you,” Emma said.

Killian was about to reply when he saw the contingent of statues they'd heard earlier came into the clearing. There were about a dozen of them, much like the pack that had attacked them earlier in the maze. But this time Killian and August had the advantage. They just had to hold the door long enough for Emma to open it. Killian looked at August, nodding a truce. August nodded in return and they went to face their attackers.

The narrow space in front of the door meant that the statues could only attack one or two at a time. There just wasn't space for all of them at once. One came rushing at Killian and he charged. Their swords clanged together in a shower of sparks. Killian withdrew and slashed again. The statue parried and thrust, missing Killian's chest by inches. Killian grinned ferociously. This time instead of aiming for the statue's sword, he swung for its stony head. Confused, the lumbering hulk tried to dodge, but it failed. Killian lodged his hook in between the stone hand of the statue and the sword, twisting it. The sword clattered to the ground, freezing the statue in place.

Killian moved past it and took on two more of them. Now that he knew their weakness it was much easier than when they had been ambushed earlier. He tried to glance back at Emma, to see if she'd gotten the door open yet, but there were too many frozen statues between them. He just finished off his sixth statue when he heard Emma call his name. He ran for the door and found it wide open. Emma was already inside.

The vault was huge, much bigger than it looked from the outside. Killian saw Emma over to the right, examining a long wall of drawers. Vaguely, Killian heard August somewhere behind him, but paid it no mind. He had to find Cora's heart. Warily, Killian sheathed his sword and grabbed the pendant; this was one of those times where a second hand would have been helpful. Bloody Crocodile. The blue trail led to what appeared to be a stairwell on the other side of the room.

“Emma,” he called.

She turned to look, her eyes following the trail. “Down the rabbit hole, huh?”

“Appears so, lass.”

“Let's get this over with.”

Together, they went down the steep steps. It opened into another large room with more drawers. Torches lit themselves as they gazed around the room. The blue trail led directly to a single drawer on the upper right hand corner of the far wall. Saying a silent prayer for the trustworthiness of the Evil Queen, Killian made a dash for it. He yanked open the drawer and reached inside. The heart glowed red in his hand. All he had to do was crush it and they would be free of Cora forever.

Inexplicably, he hesitated. He'd seen and experienced first hand what it meant to have your heart removed. He remembered the horror of watching Milah die as Rumplestiltskin crushed her heart between his fingers. The light leaving her eyes was something he'd never forget no matter how long he lived.

“Memories are a terrible burden, my dear Captain.”

Cora. Slowly – terrified of what he would find – Killian turned. Cora stood there calmly, a sword hovering at Emma's throat.

“This needn't be difficult, Captain. Just it to me.”

Killian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And you'll what? Let us go? You want us dead, Cora. Who's to say you won't kill us anyway after I've given this to you?”

“You don't. Trust, Captain. You trusted me once; it can be that way again.”

“And got burned repeatedly for my trouble. Do you think me a fool, witch?”

Cora scowled. “Can you crush my heart before this blade cuts through your beloved's neck? Is that a risk you're willing to take?”

Killian's eyes fell to Emma. Remarkably, she looked calm. She smiled tightly and glanced to her left. When Killian didn't follow, she repeated the motion with her eyes. Killian glanced to his right and saw what Emma was getting at. His clever lass. Killian smiled and held out Cora's heart.

“You want it?” he said, maliciously. “Come and get it.”

Cora took a step toward him when several of the drawers to the witch's left flew toward her. As they pelted her, Emma used the distraction to roll away from the blade at her throat. She snatched it out of the air and backed toward Killian. She didn't get far when Cora returned the favor; more drawers filled with hearts flying. One hit Killian unexpectedly from behind and he went sprawling. His sword poked him painfully in the side and worse, Cora's heart flew from his grip. Horrified, he scrambled through them desperately trying to figure out which one it was. He ducked instinctively when several more drawers flew at him, but they fell harmlessly several feet away. When he looked up, Emma was standing nearby her arm outstretched. She'd stopped them with magic. She looked just as surprised as he felt.

Cora screamed in rage and sent a fireball at Emma. Emma somehow deflected it. “The pendant, Killian,” she screamed. “Use the pendant!”

How could be be so _stupid_? He yanked on the chain and it came free in his hand. He held it over the pile of hearts and prayed it would actually work. Like a compass needle, the hanging pendant moved until it hovered over one of the hearts. He could hear the magical duel going on around him. He knew Emma with her fledgling powers would be able to do little more than hold Cora off, and not for long. He snatched up the heart and stood. Cora's eyes went wide as she saw him, a grim satisfied smile on his face. This time there was no hesitation. Cora had tried to take everything from him. He – nor the people he cared about – would ever be safe as long as she lived. Slowly, Killian squeezed his fingers together and the heart glowed brightest red in his hand before turning to dust.

Cora fell to the floor in a heap. Dead.

Killian felt the remaining dust fall out of his hand. He looked over at Emma, half triumphant and half afraid. Regina's taunt about how Emma would see him flooded his head. But Emma wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Cora, a mixture of relief and pity on her face.

“Emma?” he whispered.

Finally, she looked at him. Relief, joy and love shown on her face. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “It's over.”

“Aye, love,” he said, relief flooding him. “It's over.”

Emma pulled back slightly. “I know I should feel bad that she's dead, but...”

“She wouldn't have stopped, love. Not until she got what she wanted. I'm just sorry you had to see this.”

“Hey,” she replied, cupping his cheek in her hand, “you have nothing to be sorry for. I don't know how much longer I could have kept that up. Hell, I'm not even sure what I was doing. It was...instinct more than anything else. As far as I'm concerned you saved my life...again.”

“I think you saved mine a time or two today as well.”

“And don't you forget it, buddy,” she joked. Then she kissed him.

A throat cleared loudly from the doorway. August. Killian had completely forgotten the puppet. Embarrassed, Emma pulled away from him, but stayed within the circle of his arms.

“Ding, dong, the witch is dead,” August deadpanned.

“Isn't that mixing stories?” Emma asked. “There's got to be a law against that or something.”

“You mean like how the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White fell in love with Captain Hook?” August asked, knowingly.

“Good point.”

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” Killian pouted.

“ _The Wizard of Oz_?” Killian continued to stare at her blankly. Emma sighed. “Nevermind, we'll watch the movie when we get home.”

“Speaking of which...” August began. But Killian cut him off. He wasn't ready to face that particular dilemma yet.

“We've got a good walk ahead of us,” Killian said, quickly. “And we still have to find our way out of this infernal maze.”

“Could you two give me a minute?” Emma asked.

“Anything wrong, love?”

“No, just something I need to do. Please?”

“Of course.” He kissed her forehead and followed August up the stairs.

Whatever it was, it didn't take Emma long. Ten minutes later, she ascended the stairs. “Okay, let's get the hell out of here.”

When the trio stepped out of the vault, they were shocked at what they saw. The hedges – which had once been a foot taller than August – were now down around waist level. And the stone statues were no more. Not just unfrozen, but gone.

“What happened?” Killian asked to no one in particular.

“Cora,” Emma said. “It's the only thing that makes sense. If all this stuff was linked to her, then it would go back to how it was before she came here, right?”

Both Killian and August nodded in agreement. It certainly made finding their way back to the looking glass easier. Not an entirely happy prospect, Killian knew. He and August had talked about how to break the news to Emma that August would be left behind (assuming they all survived, of course), but had come up with no answers. Emma may not hate him for killing Cora, but she would be upset about leaving August behind.

They stayed mostly quiet as they navigated the now tamed maze. In seeming no time, they cleared the entrance and started down the mushroom lined path Killian and August had followed earlier. As the looking glass got closer, Killian's stomach filled with dread.

“Before we head home,” Emma began, “I wanted to thank you for coming after me. I don't think I'd have made it on my own. Though not for lack of trying.”

August stopped and looked at her. “I didn't do much, really. You and Killian did all the work. You guys make a really great team. I'm sure you'll be very happy together.”

Killian shifted uneasily. “August, I'm sorry for...before,” Emma replied. “I still don't like what you did, but coming here, that makes up for it.”

“You're welcome, Emma.”

“Can we go home now?” When nobody moved, Emma eyed them warily. “Alright, spill it. There's something the two of you have been keeping from me. What is it?”

Killian sighed, resigned. “August isn't going back with us, love.”

“What? Why?”

“It's the rule of the hat,” Killian explained. “However many go in, only that many can go out. Since only two came in via the hat...”

“Only two can leave. So what,” Emma said, turning to August. “You're just stuck here? How is that fair?”

“I knew what I was getting into, Emma. I know I messed up before with Phoenix and Neal and everything. This is my way of making it right.”

“How is you being stuck in freaking Wonderland right?” Emma yelled. “Did you know about this?” she said, turning to Killian.

“Aye, I knew,” Killian said. “It's how I got to Wonderland the first time.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Killian replied.

“Fantastic.” Emma paced, her hands shoved in her jeans pockets. “I can't believe this. Does Henry know?”

“Aye.”

“And he was just what? Okay with it? You're his friend, August. God, this is so messed up.”

“Emma,” August said, “Killian was going to come through _alone_. Which meant he'd have to stay behind so you could get home. Is that what you want? Trust me, this is better.”

“So it's supposed to be okay because you _volunteered_?”

“Emma,” Killian began.

“Don't you 'Emma' me, Killian Jones,” she shot back. She had something in her hand that she kept twisting over and over angrily. “I can't even look at you right now.”

“What would you have me do, Emma?” Killian said, heatedly. “Abandon you, as so many others have done? I saw a way to save you and bring us both home, so I took it. But if it's really so awful, you can August can go back. I'll stay here.”

Emma looked at him with wide eyes, horrified. “I...I...never meant. God, Killian. I don't want to go back to Storybrooke without you. That life I had before I met you...it sucked. I mean, I have Henry and my parents. I love them. But they don't get me, not like you do. You're the only person who sees _me_ , not the Savior or what could have been. Even when I gave you a hard time, tried my damnedest to push you away, you stayed. I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

“If there was another solution, love, I'd take it a heartbeat. But I won't be sorry for not wanting to leave you. If that makes me a selfish bastard, then I'll accept the title. Gladly.”

“Well, you _are_ a pirate,” Emma agreed.

“Too right, lass,” he replied, hugging her to him. He kissed the top of her head affectionately. Emma buried her head in his chest as she clutched the lapels of his coat tighter. Killian looked down at her, surprised to see a vial in her fist. “What's that, love?”

“What's what?”

“That vial in your hand.”

Emma pulled back and opened her fist. “Something I found on Cora when I...buried her? Well, if you can consider piling a bunch of drawers full of hearts as a burial. At any rate, she's covered up. It just seemed like the thing to do.”

Killian could care less about whether or not Cora's hopefully soon to be rotting corpse was covered. What he did care about was the vial in Emma's hand. “Well, let's see it then,” he said.

Emma opened the vial and tipped its contents into her palm. A handful clear beans lay there. “Oh my god, are those...”

“Magic beans? Aye, love.”

“Does that mean we can go home? All of us?”

“Aye.”

“What was it Cheshire said? 'You will find what you need in the place you least expect it.' I'd say finding magic beans in my pocket qualifies!”

That brought to mind something else Cheshire had said. Taking Emma home in more stately fashion. And there were nearly a half dozen magic beans. Never let it be said that Killian Jones was afraid to take a chance.

“What do you think about returning home on board our very own pirate ship, love?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Definite, but open ended. I hope you enjoy it!

_Never again,_ Killian swore to himself. Never again was he traveling by magic hat or magic bean or magic anything unless it was in his own ship. The _Jolly_ _Roger_ was a damn sight safer and easier on the body than those damnable beans. But as much as his body ached from planting ass first in the second magical realm in as many days, he was just grateful that they'd all arrived in one piece. And more importantly that Emma had agreed to his mad plan to begin with.

 

Rather than go back to Storybrooke, he, Emma and August were traipsing through the Enchanted Forest – their native land – in search of his beloved ship. Foolhardy? Probably. But Emma had shared so much of her home with him, he desperately wanted to share his with her. And his home was the _Jolly Roger._ She had gotten him through many a storm, both atmospheric and of the heart. She had been his faithful companion for over three hundred years and he missed her. Besides, what sort of captain would he be without his ship? The _Roger_ was as much a part of him as his hook. If he had a chance to get her back, he'd take it.

 

“You do know where the ship is, don't you?” August asked, ducking under a low hanging branch.

 

“Of course, I know,” Killian replied, irritated. “It's not my fault the bloody portal didn't land us closer to her.”

 

“Why is that by the way?” Emma asked. “How do those even work anyway?”

 

“The beans? You just need to think about where you want to go. We wanted to go the Enchanted Forest. So the portal opened to it. I wish it was more precise, but it's not.”

 

“So when we go home...”

 

“We'll have the _Roger_ to guide us through the portal. She's a marvel, my ship. Should bring us out relatively close to Storybrooke.”

 

“Should?” August asked.

 

“It's still magic, mate. Tends to be a bit unpredictable. Maybe Emma could help with that though.”

 

Emma shook her head. “No way. I'm not getting anywhere near the steering wheel or whatever.”

 

“Helm, love.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Haven't we already established that I don't know anything about boats?”

 

Killian couldn't help but smirk at her. “Then you shouldn't have fallen in love with a pirate, darling. And the _Roger_ is most definitely _not_ a boat.”

 

“Are you done?”

 

“You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to having you on board, love.”

 

“You say that now,” Emma doubted.

 

Killian reached out and took her hand. “You'll be brilliant, love. Just like you are at everything else.”

 

“That is _so_ not true.”

 

“Can you two have the mutual appreciation society some other time?” August cut in. “There are still ogres out there.”

 

They were quiet for a while after that. Emma's quiver only had three arrows left; if they ran into any ogres it could go quite badly for them. This trip for all its adventure was still dangerous. On the bright side if they truly got in a tight spot, they could use one of the remaining beans to just go back to Storybrooke. Killian hoped it wouldn't come to that, however. They were _so_ close to finding his ship, he was loathe to abandon her again.

 

“This place looks familiar,” Emma said quietly.

 

The woods opened up into a clearing, one that had once been a place of refuge. Killian knew exactly where they were. He looked at Emma apprehensively. He could see it the moment she realized where they were.

 

“Oh my god. It's the sanctuary.”

 

“Aye.”

 

It looked much as it had the last time they were there. Debris everywhere, the few dwellings ransacked. But the bodies were gone. Unless you knew what happened there, it merely looked like a settlement that had been abandoned in a hurry. Not the sight of a massacre. Killian remembered the look in Cora's eyes as she proceeded with the horror. It was the first time he'd been truly afraid of her; indeed the first time he'd been afraid of anything in three hundred years. The maniacal gleam in the witch's eyes as she slaughtered made him shudder. It was part of the reason why he didn't stop her. Cora would just as soon have killed him as look at him and he was desperate for his revenge. So he'd stayed out of her way. He'd rationalized it then; he felt sorry about it now. When had that happened?

 

“We should camp here tonight,” Emma said.

 

That took Killian by surprise. “What? Why?”

 

“It's getting late; it's nearly sunset. And unless we're really, really close, we're not finding the ship today.”

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Positive. I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted. And starving.”

 

As if on cue, Killian's stomach rumbled. They'd polished off Snow's sandwiches hours ago. And they could use the rest. The adrenaline from all that fighting and running had long since worn off. The _Roger_ wasn't going anywhere; it would be there in the morning.

 

“I'll gather some wood for a fire,” August said. “Back in a bit.”

 

“Maybe there's still some stores left,” Emma mused. “Help me look?”

 

“Of course, love.”

 

As it happened, they _did_ find a few edible things amongst the debris. Soon they were settled before a small fire, feasting on their spoils. At length, August excused himself to get some sleep. Killian and Emma remained by the fire, an uncomfortable silence surrounding them.

 

“Are you alright, love?” Killian asked, unable to endure it any longer.

 

“Yeah,” Emma replied quickly.

 

“Liar.”

 

Emma sighed, finally looking at him. “How could she do this? These people, they did _nothing_ to her and she just...”

 

“I know, love. But she can't do anything like this again. She's gone.”

 

“And you just...what? Stood by and watched?”

 

That was the crux of it for Emma, Killian knew. His past was forever looming over them. “What else could I have done? I'm just a simple pirate, love. All my interference would have accomplished was adding one more body to the pile.”

 

Emma looked back at the fire. The red orange glow played against her skin fetchingly. But that was the last thing on Killian's mind. At length, she sighed once more. “Logically, I know that,” she began. “I do. Cora killed those people, not you. And if I'd been in your shoes...I honestly don't know what I'd have done. But you're right; Cora's dead. She can't hurt anyone else. And that's thanks to you.”

 

“I didn't kill her for any kind of greater justice, Emma,” Killian said honestly. “She was a threat to you and everyone we love. That's my concern. You come first, you hear me? If I have to choose between you and some kind of greater good, I choose you. Always.”

 

Emma looked back at him, unshed tears in her eyes. “No one's ever done that for me before. I mean, my parents did...sort of. But saving me from the curse wasn't just about me, it was also about saving everyone else. I understand that, but it doesn't change the fact that I grew up alone.”

 

“I'm not going anywhere, Emma. Not without you. Unless, of course, you send me away.”

 

“I don't really see that happening. Yeah, we'll fight. But everyone does. I'm never going to not want you. You get that, right?”

 

He nodded. This is why they worked. They both loved fiercely and determinedly. And they accepted each other without judgment. He was extraordinarily lucky to have found her and he wasn't letting her go. And now he knew for certain that she felt the exact same way about him. He felt bad for anyone who was fool enough to try and come between them.

 

The fire was getting dimmer. “We should get some sleep, love.”

 

Killian stretched out on a pallet made of straw a little way back from the fire. Emma joined him, resting her head on his chest. “Tell me about the _Jolly Roger_ ,” she whispered.

 

Quietly, Killian launched into the tale. How he'd won her in a highly unfair game of dice, how he'd gained his crew's respect despite his youth, some of his adventures. He'd gotten so carried away in the memories that he didn't notice that Emma had fallen asleep. He stroked her golden hair lovingly, then kissed the crown of her head. Soon, he too was asleep.

 

They got started early the next morning. He'd left his ship near Regina's palace, not too far from the sanctuary. She was far enough away that she hadn't been encapsulated when Cora used her staff to protect them from the curse, hence why his crew had wound up in Storybrooke and he had not. He just hoped no harm had come to her in the twenty eight years he'd been away.

 

As they cleared the last rise, he saw her. There, as perfect as the day he left her, was the _Jolly Roger_. His face broke out into a grin as he beheld her. The fastest ship in all the realms. His _home_.

 

“Wow,” August breathed.

 

“I should say so.”

 

“You weren't kidding,” Emma said.

 

“Shall we, love?”

 

Emma nodded. The space between them and the _Roger_ was closed in minutes. The hull loomed above them; Killian ran his hand along the weathered wood reverently. “I'm back, old girl. We'll not be separated again, I swear.”

 

The gangplank slid down automatically, as it always did for him. Emma and August jumped back in shock. Killian just laughed.

 

“How did it do that?” August asked, shakily.

 

“ _She_ is made of enchanted wood, my former wooden friend. And she only answers to her captain, which is me.”

 

“Enchanted wood? Like me?”

 

Emma raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

“It's a long story,” August said.

 

“And I'm sure it's fascinating,” Emma said. “Can we go home now?”

 

“You know, technically speaking, we _are_ home,” August mused.

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “My son is in Storybrooke, August. _That's_ home. And I'd like to get back there...like now.”

 

Killian started up the gangplank. Emma and August followed. Emma, however, paused at the top. Then she looked Killian in the eye and smirked. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

 

Killian grinned at her. She was going to be a fine pirate one day. “Aye.”

 

She stepped aboard, swaying slightly. “It could take you a while to get your sea legs, love. Just don't fight it and you'll be fine.”

 

She nodded. A ship the size of the _Jolly Roger_ was both easier and more difficult to adapt to than the dilapidated boat he'd stayed on back in Storybrooke. But Emma would be fine. She was already wandering the quarterdeck, trying to get her bearings.

 

“I'll save the tour for later, if you don't mind. I think we should get underway.”

 

With no crew, Killian had do rely on his special relationship with his ship to get them out to the open sea. They cast off and Killian headed up to helm. The sails trimmed themselves and soon they were leaving the bay. One more turn to port and they'd be clear of the shore and ready to use one of their precious beans. Emma joined him just as they hit the open sea.

 

“Where's August?” he asked.

 

“I think I saw him huddled near a railing. He looked a little green, to be honest.”

 

Killian chuckled. So the puppet was seasick. He'd have to file that bit of information for later. “Well, you should tell him to get below decks soon. The portal's going to be a bumpy ride.”

 

She did as he bid, then was back. “I found him a bucket, just in case. I hope that's OK.”

 

“Darling, this ship is as much yours as it is mine. You may do whatever you want.”

 

“Whoa, let's not get carried away here, Captain,” Emma worried. “This is...well, overwhelming actually. She's?” Killian nodded. “She's extraordinary, even I can see that. But she's _yours_. This is your home.”

 

“Aye, that she is. But my home is also wherever you are. I want you to love this ship as much as I do, be your home as much as it is mine.” When she still looked apprehensive, he took her hand. “I can prove it to you.”

 

“How?”

 

“Take the wheel, love.”

 

“We had this conversation, Killian.”

 

“Indulge an old pirate?”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

 

Gently, Killian took her hands and placed them on the wheel. Then he stepped back. “Now I want you to turn us fifteen degrees starboard.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Right, love.”

 

“Oh right.” Emma turned the wheel to her right, looking at it like it might explode in her hands.

 

“She doesn't bite, Emma. Just relax.” He reached out and stopped her hands. “A little too far, love.”

 

“I told you I couldn't do this,” she complained.

 

“Rubbish, you're doing fine.”

 

“Now what?”

 

“Let go.”

 

“Thank god.” Emma let go of the wheel and stepped back.

 

“I didn't say we were finished.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Killian ignored her. He'd been dying to try this ever since Emma had agreed to bring the _Roger_ back to Storybrooke. It hadn't even occurred to him that it could work until she stopped Cora from taking his heart. But if August was right and they were magically connected now...well, there was only one way to find out.

 

Killian took out his spy glass and held it up. Sure enough, the thing he was looking for was right where he remembered it. He handed the glass to Emma. “Look out there and tell me what you see.”

 

Emma cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly, but did as he asked. “Is that an island?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“And why am I looking at it?”

 

“Because you're going to steer us toward it.”

 

“Fine,” she huffed and collapsed the spy glass. When she reached for the wheel, Killian stopped her.

 

“Not with that.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Emma, remember when I said the _Roger_ was made out of enchanted wood?” She nodded. “As Captain, I have a special – connection, shall we say – with my ship. How do think we got this far without a crew?”

 

“You mean she can sail by herself?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“So she what? Obeys your thoughts or something?”

 

“I've never really asked how it works. It just does. I'm not even sure her previous captain even knew about it.”

 

“But you figured it out. Clever boy.” Emma looked back at the island. “Okay, let's do this.”

 

“I want you to focus on the island, on the direction it is from us. Can you do that?” She nodded. “Now picture in your mind us going toward it.”

 

A second later, the wheel spun and stopped. The bow of the ship began to slide left once more, coming to a stop once it was opposite the island. Killian's smile felt like it was going to split his face. It worked.

 

“Did I just do that?”

 

“Aye, you did. Done like you were born to do it! Well done, love.” Killian leaned down and kissed her. Chaste at first, but then Emma wound her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. He moaned into her mouth as she opened for him. It felt like it had been ages since they'd kissed like this. Killian wrapped his left arm around her waist and hauled her to him until she was flush with his body. Watching her maneuver his ship was a powerful aphrodisiac as it turned out, not that they needed one. But as he ran kisses down along her collarbone, he knew they would have to stop. They needed to get back.

 

Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You are amazing, love.”

 

Emma flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “You're not so bad, you know.”

 

“Ready to go home?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“The bean, if you please?”

 

Emma reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the vial. She opened the lid and tipped one bean out into her palm. She put the remainder away and handed it to Killian.

 

“When we start through the portal, Emma, I want you to hold on to me. Unless you'd feel better about being below decks with August. It's going to be bumpy.”

 

Emma shook her head. “I'm not leaving you.”

 

“Fair enough.” Killian looked at the bean, pictured the realm without magic, Storybrooke. Then he tossed the bean into the water and watched at the whirlpool opened. Emma held onto him tightly as he guided the _Roger_ toward the swirling ocean. As before the wind howled in his ears as his ship spun through the portal. They were going home at last.

 

 

It was such a different experience, going through a portal on board the _Jolly Roger._ No sensation of falling, no black nothingness. And best of all, no crash at the bottom. This time the whirlpool opened to the crystal clear ocean of the North Atlantic. Emma could tell; the salty ocean air was cool on her cheek. Which made sense since it was still winter. If they'd have emerged further south, the air would have been thicker, warmer. Killian was the only warmth she felt at the moment; solid and confident at her side.

 

Once the whirlpool closed, she let him go. She stepped back and watched as he maneuvered the ship, getting his bearings. It was twilight; the stars were just starting to peak through the darkening sky. Emma caught sight of the North Star – the only star she knew, really – and was about to point it out when Killian beat her to it. He adjusted their bearing accordingly. He really was in his element, every inch the captain in charge of his ship. It made her smile. Suddenly, she was glad they'd taken the time to go back to the Enchanted Forest to bring the _Jolly Roger_ back with them. Maybe with his ship, Storybrooke could truly be home – for both of them.

 

Seeing the Killian had things well in hand, Emma went to check on August. Poor guy had been in a bad way ever since he'd stepped on board. Emma had been surprised at how quickly she'd adapted to the gentle swaying of the ship, but August clearly had not. What was it Killian had told her at the docks all those weeks ago? A sailor can always recognize a kindred soul. She hoped he didn't remember that; he'd never let her live it down if he did.

 

August was exactly where she had left him. He clutched the bucket to his chest; his eyes were closed. He looked terrible.

 

“How're you doing, August?”

 

Reluctantly, the puppet opened his eyes. “Alright, all things considered. We make it through?”

 

“Yeah, we did. Safe and sound.” She paused. “I think we'll be docking soon.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

Emma thought about it. She didn't know, not really. It wasn't like she'd seen the Storybrooke coast before heading below decks. But she could feel it, like a sixth sense. Killian said he was connected to his ship. Maybe she was now too? _Okay, slightly freaky,_ she thought. But what other explanation was there?

 

“Just trust me, okay? Killian knows what he's doing.”

 

“I hate boats,” August observed.

 

“I noticed. Don't let Killian hear you say that, though. He might take it personally.”

 

“I didn't used to be. But that whale...” August shuddered. “I vowed never again to get on a boat.”

 

“How did you get to Thailand?”

 

“Flew. Thank the gods this realm figured out how to fly.”

 

“Well, once we dock, you'll never have to do it again.”

 

Emma was about to head back when August stopped her. “Thank you, Emma. For not leaving me behind. I hope that someday you can forgive me for the other things I did.”

 

“August, I already have. Just do me one favor, okay?”

 

“Name it.”

 

“Next time you try to be my guardian angel, talk to me first? I'm a big girl now.”

 

August grinned, even though he still looked green. “You got it.”

 

Emma hugged him briefly before heading back up to the main deck. Killian smiled when he saw her. “There you are, darling. I was beginning to think I'd lost you.”

 

“I was checking on August. Are we docking soon? He looks terrible, probably feels worse.”

 

“Aye, look there.” He pointed. The Storybrooke skyline loomed in front of them. They were home.

 

After docking, the three of them headed back into town. Fortunately, Emma's Bug was still at the docks, so she drove them to the station. Since everyone was still expecting them to emerge from the hat, she presumed that's where everyone was. As they rounded the corner entering the station, Emma saw Henry huddled in her mother's embrace. Her heart nearly burst to the sight of him. She'd only been gone a little while, but she'd missed him so much.

 

“Mom?” Henry whispered, when he caught sight of her. “Mom!” Henry ran out of Mary Margaret's arms and straight into Emma's.

 

Emma held him tightly. “Hey, kid,” she replied, tears threatening to spill over.

 

“Emma?” Mary Margaret and David exclaimed simultaneously. In a second, the four of them were caught in a huge group hug. Emma caught sight of Killian hanging off to the side, clearly reluctant to interrupt the family reunion. “Get over here, you,” she sniffed. Once he joined in their circle, her family was complete. And that precise moment was the happiest Emma had ever been.

 

 

Slowly, life returned to normal. Well, as normal as things ever were in Storybrooke. The first thing Emma did after coming home was visit Regina. Killian offered to go with her, but Emma didn't think that was the wisest idea. As gently as she could, she broke the news that Cora was dead. Emma was unprepared for the tears that followed. She stayed by Regina's side, as the former Evil Queen cried herself out. As evil and crazy as Cora was, she was still Regina's mother and Emma knew what if felt like to be an orphan. Thereafter, Emma and Regina were on fairly decent terms. They would never be close – there was too much water under the bridge for that – but they were pleasant, for Henry's sake. Emma even allowed Henry to spend some extra time with her, knowing Regina needed him as much as she did.

 

There were two dilemmas, however, that Emma couldn't shake. Neal and Gold. She hadn't the faintest idea what to do about them. She didn't know if her deal with Gold still held up or not. After what happened on the toll bridge, she hoped it didn't, but that was foolish. If there was something Gold truly wanted from her, he'd find a way to invoke it; Killian was still alive after all. Killian's presence was also a complication. She knew that Gold still harbored ill will against him and could come after her pirate at the slightest provocation. It worried her. She didn't want her family reunited, just to lose them again.

 

And Neal was still hanging around town for some reason. After he failed to show up when she went missing, Henry decided that he wanted nothing to do with his birth father. Emma didn't try to force it either. She knew that she certainly wanted nothing to do with Neal, but if Henry had, she'd have dealt with that. But now that she knew he didn't, Emma had no idea what to do about Neal. It was a free country; she certainly couldn't order him out of town. And there was the fact that he was Gold's son to contend with. The whole situation made her head hurt.

 

Matters came to a head two weeks after they'd returned. Emma was sitting her office sorting through some old files of Graham's. She found her own arrest file and it brought a smile to her face. She remembered the day Graham deputized her, giving her a place in town, a job. It had been the impetus she needed and set her on the path that ultimately led her to Killian. She would be forever grateful for that.

 

“I hope I'm not interrupting.”

 

Gold. Emma looked up from her file and saw the imp standing in her doorway leaning on his cane. “What do you want, Gold?”

 

“I've come to talk about my son.”

 

“Look as far as I know, he's staying at Granny's. But Henry wants nothing to do with him and neither do I,” she said quickly, hoping to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand.

 

“But he's Henry's father.”

 

“Biologically, sure. But he showed up here acting like he was _entitled_ to a relationship with us. Like he'd _earned_ it. He abandoned me and sent me to jail for his crime. Then after I got out, I _waited_ for him in Tallahassee, holding out hope that I was wrong and he really did love me.”

 

“He does love you, Emma. He told me so.”

 

Emma stood. “Maybe he does. Or maybe he's in love with someone who doesn't exist anymore. Either way, I don't care. He _chose_ to leave me. He _chose_ to send me to jail. He _chose_ not to find me until after I'd broken the curse. It's too little, too late. I've moved on.”

 

“With the pirate,” Gold said bitterly.

 

“Yes, with Killian. Over and over again, he's chosen me. He stayed even when I tried to push him away. That's the kind of love I want in my life, in Henry's life. Not someone who leaves because a puppet told them to.”

 

“He took Milah from me.”

 

“No, she chose to leave you, just like Neal did me. Maybe instead of blaming Killian you should take a long look in the mirror, Gold.”

 

She was treading on thin ice, she knew. Gold could lose his temper and lash out at her. But she'd been working on her magic since she'd gotten back. Gold didn't know about that.

 

“Keep the pirate out of my way, Miss Swan.”

 

“Stay out of ours and that shouldn't be a problem.”

 

Gold nodded once and left. Emma deflated as soon as he was out of sight. It wasn't the truce she had hoped for, but it was something. Maybe one day. Until then, Emma would just have to remain vigilant. Absentmindedly, she fingered the swan charm around her neck, like she frequently did when she was stressed. It was a reminder to herself not to trust anyone again. But somehow she had. She trusted Killian with her life, her heart. Emma reached up and unclasped the chain. She knew exactly what to do with it.

 

She found Killian exactly where she expected to: down at the docks fiddling with something or other on his beloved ship. Since they returned, he'd spent most of his free time there. And true to his word, he had started teaching Henry how to sail. The previous weekend, the three of them had taken the _Jolly Roger_ out into the bay. Emma mostly sat back and watched her boys run all over the deck adjusting the sails and climbing the rigging. Henry had even had a turn at the wheel. It was the most fun she'd had in a long time. Each time she came here, she understood a little bit more about what Killian felt for his ship. And while she couldn't see them living on board permanently (Emma appreciated her modern comforts too much), it could be a wonderful second home for them.

 

As she stepped on the deck, Emma saw Killian hard at work polishing a portion of the bow railing. Clearly, twenty eight years of weather had taken a bit of the shine off. Killian took great pride in his ship, he insisted on doing most of the work himself. Her footfalls echoed in the ancient wood; when Killian saw her, he grinned.

 

“I wasn't expecting you, love.”

 

“I can't come visit?”

 

“Of course, you can. I just thought you'd be busy with the massive crime wave in our fair town,” he replied, teasing.

 

“Ha, ha. This town has been seriously _boring_ since we got back and you know it.”

 

“All the more reason we should go off on that adventure.”

 

“Killian...”

 

“I know, love. But one day...”

 

“Yeah, one day. I promise.” It was a discussion they'd had several times in the time they'd been back. Killian was eager to see what this world had to offer, put the _Roger_ through her paces in a new land. But Emma thought it was too soon. Henry had school. Her parents couldn't even leave town. And there was the threat posed by Gold to consider. She didn't want to go anywhere until she was certain that Storybrooke would be there when they got back.

 

“So why are you here, if not to send us on an adventure?”

 

“Gold came by my office today.”

 

Killian's face immediately hardened; he clenched his rag even tighter in his lone fist. “And _what_ did he want?”

 

“He tried to get me to take Neal back. At least I think that's what he wanted.”

 

“Does he have any idea what that sod did to you?”

 

“Don't worry, I shut him down. He wasn't happy about it, but I'm fine,” she said quickly, knowing Killian would worry.

 

“I swear, Emma, if that coward so much as lays a hand on you, all the magic in all the realms would not be able to stop me ending his miserable life.”

 

“If we're lucky, it will never come to that. He just wants us – more specifically, _you_ – to stay out of his way.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

Well, that was a relief. Now for the rest. “That's not all that happened today.”

 

“Pray tell, love.”

 

“I went to see Neal.”

 

“ _Why?”_

 

She knew that look. “It's not what you think. I just had to return something. Something he gave me a long time ago.”

 

Killian studied her critically. “Your swan necklace?” he guessed.

 

“Yeah. I kept it to remind myself to never trust anyone again. But since I no longer need that reminder, I decided to give it back. And to tell him in no uncertain terms that I have moved on and he should do the same.”

 

“Emma...”

 

“I love _you_ , Killian Jones. You're it for me. No more running, no more hiding behind walls. If you'll have me, that is.”

 

Killian scoffed. “You still need to ask? Emma, I'm pretty sure I've loved you from the moment I met you. It took me a while to accept that, I admit. I'd spent so long alone, hellbent on revenge. Love wasn't something I thought I'd ever have again, or even deserved. You've given me so much, I can't even tell you. The world would have to end before I'd be parted from you.”

 

He looked like he was going to say something else, but Emma cut him off with a kiss. He hesitated for only a second before he was kissing her back hungrily. His arms were around her waist in a flash, hauling her to him. They were a tangle of arms, lips and teeth until air became paramount. They stood there foreheads pressed together, gasping for breath.

 

“I had a gift for you, until I was so rudely interrupted,” Killian murmured.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Don't remember,” he lied. “I know of a much better way to spend our time.”

 

“Ah, ah. Out with it, Captain.”

 

Killian untangled his right arm from her waist and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a long gold chain and at the end of it was a gold coin. It looked vaguely familiar.

 

“Is that what I think it is?”

 

“You mean is it the only piece of the giant's treasure I managed to purloin on our first adventure together? Aye, that is, sweetheart.”

 

“It's beautiful.”

 

“And now it's yours.” Carefully, Killian slipped the long chain over her head. It hung over her shirt, midway down her torso. The gold gleamed in the bright sunlight. It was perfect.

 

“Thank you, Killian.” She kissed him once more, putting every once of love and gratitude she had into it. This was her happy ending, she could feel it. When she pulled away, she smirked up at her pirate. “You know, we still haven't christened the captain's quarters.”

 

“A tragedy, that is.”

 

“Too bad, it'll have to wait.” She turned and started to walk away.

 

“Minx,” she heard him mutter. The grin was already on her face when she felt him come up behind her and pick her up, hauling her to the captain's quarters. She had no doubt that their future would have its ups and downs, but she also knew they would face it together.

 

FINIS


End file.
